Ghost Synth Music

Sciomancy

The manor stood before me, its doors fashioned from violet mist and splintered wood. I did not know why I had come. I did not know how. Was I summoned? The doors opened and closed of their own accord, obedient only to a stubborn wind that whispered extraterrestrial punishments into my misaligned ears. I entered. The Devil's staircase. The chair of dead, waterlogged flesh. Rooms with neither beginning nor ending. Ten thousand corridors devoted exclusively to disappearance. Something murmured at the center of the edifice. A... A heart. Invisible. Black. The ribbed nucleus of a house that was alive only by virtue of having died long ago. A rotten organ. Its pipes disgorging pale worms of neither never nor elsewhere. Its opaque mist. Its orifices. Its cavities. Its impossible anatomy. Its refusal to exist according to any law I had ever survived. I drifted through wet earth and ash. My gaze had burst. My eyes were filled with abject rust older than memory. Every wall leaned inward as though listening. Every silence possessed organs. Every shadow anticipated me by centuries. It was midnight. It had always been midnight. It would remain midnight long after whatever still called itself my heart had forgotten how to beat. -Sir Kuliktavikt