Limpid and crystalline voices emerge from the depths of the night.
Scathing and imperious calls. Poetry and magic.
Chromatic Phoenix feathers that ignite goetic songs and set monochordal perception on fire.
I was born from my own ashes and I dipped my pen in my own blood. With scarlet ink, I wrote the words that make you die, laugh, cry and live again. The words that the ancient dragon gods whispered in the infinite space of the young world.
Who wants to know the secret that was never spoken? Who wants to know the key that opens the unspeakable arcane of witchcraft? What lies on the other side of a black hole? Reflection of golden twilight and aurora borealis. Mirror of icy obsidian and bright molten silver.
The eyes of the spirit open to the contact of those who whisper in the shadows.