The Apex Dread. Its skin is a film of bruised glass, paper-thin, yet somehow clogged with veins that slither inside like eels. The head is a blind lattice of bone spires twisting into a crown that never stops growing. Beneath that crown lurks a single orb the size of a dinner plate, but it is not an eye—it is a lens, behind which countless larval eyes swim. Its limbs defy numbering. They fold and unfold in fractal recursion, every joint a flexing maw lined with cilia-thin talons. From its torso, translucent sacs billow like jellyfish bells, each pulsing with something vaguely human—faces pressed against the membrane, eyes rolled back.