Molok comes for your soul

You stop running, unsure if you’ve lost direction in the fog. You hope you’ve escaped it. You turn to look back, then hear a snap of branches. You whirl again. A monsterous form emerges, black metal, but somehow consumed by a beastial hunger. It glows with the fragmentary essence of those it has already consumed. You know you won’t live to see dawn, and your soul will know no afterlife.