Sunlight's last grasp reached up from the horizon like the clawing hand of a drowning man. Black against a blackening sky, the Great Mountain's frozen peak loomed.
In the crannies and crevices, in the darkened recesses of stone and ice, the denizens of nightmare crawled and squirmed. Silken shadows given form, withered hags of sorcerous witchcraft, leathery gargoyles, and skeletal fiends - all creeping ever upward, gathering for their unholy sabbath.
Night at last swallowed light. Crystalline silence befell the summit. The wicked waited for their God. The pointed peak cracked and opened, two colossal bat-like wings spreading. He emerged, exultant.
Creatures of every horror danced and cheered in twitches and fits, calling to their God. His jagged finger pointed and his minions of malice spewed forth to spread fear and death and darkness.
Chernobog, Lord of Darkness, grinned.