Xal’thurim appears as a flat, aged wooden door tightly pressed against a crumbling stone wall. The wood’s grain twists unnaturally like sinewy muscles beneath bark, with faintly glowing runes barely visible under layers of grime. A peculiar pile of humanoid bones—weathered, clean, and deliberately arranged in a grotesque, almost ceremonial manner—lies at the door’s base, as if left as an offering or warning. Occasionally, faint pulses make the bones rattle lightly, betraying life to the observant. When a passerby approaches, the door’s surface ripples like breathing leather, and subtle creaks echo from within. Contradictory to its menacing presence, the door sometimes emits a soft, melancholic hum, resembling a forgotten lullaby whispered from deep inside its wooden heart.