As your journey through the pestilential mists of a forsaken marshland, you search for the hidden entrance that will lead you to the domain of Eil'ûdom. You find a moss-covered mausoleum ? the sepulchre of your forefathers, and you dig beneath the tombs, finding a tunnel beneath the ground. As you enter the vaults of ingurgitating obscurity, the blood-chilling, eerie calm that surrounds you makes your body tremble in fear. Through the cryptic gloom, you hear the shadows whisper, their voices echoing in a silent, sinister discordance.

"My mind must be playing tricks on me"

And as you find an arched entrance, the shadows suddenly become distinct shapes; Grotesque, phantomatic entities
with obscenely deformed mouths. In a deafening choir, the spirits chanted:

"This is the Gateway of Eil'ûdom: The passage that leads to the realms of Ethereality, and we are the slumbering guardians of this entrance, which mortals are forbidden to enter."

While the shapes dissipate into a cloud, you hear multiple, distant, piercing shrieks that reverberate against the vault walls. "Come to us", you hear them cry out. Sadistic laughter resonates in your ears as you attempt to find your way through the labyrinthine catacombs?soon to be your grave. Suddenly, "they" surround you. The floor starts devouring your feet, while sickening obscure shapes munch on your body?mercilessly. As you are being slowly masticated by the guardians of Eil'ûdom, you gaze one last time at the ghastly faces of your predecessors through the mist, laughing at your fate (morbid irony). But you shall not become one of them?you shall be feasted on for all eternity.

A lone traveller gazes at the stygian horizon, as twilight fades below the distant mountains. Slowly, shades of darkness descend upon the desolated plains before him, and a sense of dread plagues his mind: the certitude that something is lurking amidst the withered trees, haunting him ever since the sun has vanished. Distant, doleful threnodies are faintly heard just under the sighing of cold autumnal winds, as darkened mists enshroud the moonlit skies. Summoned from the void, a sinister entity awaits in secrecy, its slumber disturbed by an unknown presence. A strident screech echoes through the woods, shattering the funeral quietude of the forest. Merging itself with the shadows, its amorphous shape crawls towards him. Bone-chilling horror grips the man's spirit, as emaciated tentacles reach for him. Dragged into the shade, the traveller disappears into nothingness and cold silence returns upon the barren plains once more.

You force your way into your neighbour's manor, only to find an eyeless corpse next to a knife and a book in a puddle of blood. Out of curiosity, you pick up the book and read the last pages:

"Diary of Lord Edward S. Davenport , son of Eleanor T. Davenport. Renowned Cilucithionian Archaeologist"

"Journal entry number 457, Tuesday, May 6th 3241: My last discovery:"

-According to an old Cilucitionian legend, it is said that there exists an antediluvian manuscript containing the scriptures revealing the secrets of Eil'ûdom. It is said that reciting the writings is forbidden. These scriptures were written in an arcane dialect by the eyeless ones - the "Typhlodians" - in which rituals of astral projection to enter Eil'ûdom were "exposed". Rumours said that whoever tried to decipher the dialect would suffer the same fate of the Typhlodians: Punished by the gods - left deformed and sightless. My quest to uncover the secrets of these scriptures then began.

Town-folks would think I lost my mind, fearing the Typhlodian spirits would bestow a curse upon me. My helpless obsession led me to a subterranean temple, where the book was kept in secrecy. And after returning to the village with my prize, I could already smell the fumes of death surrounding me. While reciting the strange incantations, I went into a deep slumber - which took my spirit in the cursed dream world of Eil'ûdom, and inside a subterranean sepulchre. The sepulchre was filled with mangled bodies - Pale, emaciated eyeless beings. The corpses started to convulse and move. I realized I was cursed by the typhlodians. And with their empty eye sockets - fathomless abysses of terror, they stared at me and whispered my name. I deeply gazed into their empty stare. Endlessly screaming, I beheld my own death. Night after night, these nightmarish beings came back to haunt my dreams with their empty, eye-less stare. But the manifestations soon became more frequent, even during day-time. I pray that the gods will forgive me, and that someone will find this journal upon my death and burn the scriptures. For I, Edward, must now remove my own eyes. In death, I will find peace. I cannot bear seeing their horrific stares anymore.

...By the gods, they are in the windows!

As you finish reading the last sentence, you turn the other pages of the book, and notice numerous spots of blood on the blank pages. You close the journal and slowly walk away from the corpse, but as you back away from the gruesome scene, you hear a cold, otherworldly voice whisper something behind your ears:

"Edward"

A distant moan pierces the calm stillness of the night. Awakened from a dream-less slumber, you hear a voice calling out your name. Enthralled by strange rhythmic sounds, your bewitched body exits your house and climbs down the village's dried up well. Drum-pounding echoes through the stone corridors as you delve into the subterranean labyrinth, while moaning voices speak to you in unknown tongues. The aroma of feces and aeons of decay fills your nostrils. Regurgitated bile, phlegm and mucus spews out of your mouth. Mesmerised by the morbid calling of death, you let the enigmatic voices lead you into a vast corridor.

"Your fellow villagers, all nailed to stone pillars,
Entrails hanging, eyes and tongue removed."

The drum-pounding quickens, as you wake from your otherworldly trance. Despair and grief fills your panicked soul as you attempt to escape with your life. You run away, but you fall into an invisible pitfall. You cannot move anymore, because you broke your spine at the bottom. And as the moaning voices turn into laughter, rotting hands erupt from the ground and drag your body beneath the mud.

The distant ringing of cathedral bells echoes from afar, chiming the arrival of nightfall. Gracefully radiant in the infinite blackness, the moonlight reveals a elusive fortress in the distant fog. Beyond the fortifications of Cilucithion, tenebrous darkness descends on funest wings as the nocturnal order of the Om'kaar reigns supreme from their castle walls. Like obsidian blades piercing the night-sky, obscure stone columns rise before Cilucithionian knights as they march into barren fields to vanquish the ghost-fortress of Ve'coiitn'aphnat'smaala. Legions of armor-clad paladins gather amid foul swirling winds, grimly waiting the final hour of confrontation in the shadow of the spectral structure. Suddenly, a booming voice roars from the ghastly monument, "Th' rof Ecom Om'kaar S'nioinm". Commanded by their sworn master, phantom entities emerge from interdimensional warp-gates. Invoked by arcane magick, shapeless horsemen gallop across the plains as thunder shatters the sky. Raising their swords in unison, the fiery war-cry of Cilucithionian knights resounds in the cold night. Charging forth into the chaotic fray, infernal legions face-off in the ravaged hills. Armour, swords and spears clash, as mutilated corpses litter the burning country-side.

Above the battle ruins, hordes of floating cavaliers stream from monolithic spires, their spectral shapes ominously descending upon the war-torn fields. Infinite arrows rain down upon the paladins, as they fearfully retreat to their own stronghold. Cursing the gods for abandoning them, they mournfully await their morbid funeration. Submerged by the counter-attacking Om'kaar horde, the castle fortifications crumble into nothingness. Triumphant, the spectral beings desecrate and burn the once glorious halls of Cilucithion. As the city turns to ashes, tall pikes adorning the severed heads of the vanquished are seen from afar, as a warning to neighbouring realms. For all men shall kneel before the might of the Om'kaar and the ghost-fortress of Ve'coiitn'aphnat'smaala.

A cursed moon hangs low in the tumultuous skies, glowing ominously over plains of arid desolation. A stone tower stands before these haunted lands, its structure perpetually ascending toward the heavens. Bitter lamentations from lingering spirits echo through the valley, speaking of a forgotten aeon. Rumours of ancient men, and their war against the gods, bridging their world to the sacred realm.

"Into the streaming heavens,
Bestial hordes impetuously ascended."

"A portal was opened in the inverted sky,
A gate leading to a realm of boundless deserts.
There, they discovered a dormant evil,
Sealed away into obscurity."

"Harnessed by wicked men (It's invicible might).
Blasphemous monuments (Of worship).
Bringing forth grimness (Upon their land).
Curse of the ancient ones (Dooming their world)."

Whispers reverberate under the wind, speaking of a omen of brewing doom, warning those who awakened Majora. Far beyond the battlements, resounds the howling of a thousand wolves. Rancorous chants echo in the mountains, "come forth impious legions". Funeral winds sweep across the land, as Cimmerian shadows dance in a macabre harmony, under the gleaming blood red full-moon, burning bright. Seraphic archangels of death, wrathfully descending in infernal glory, in celebration of the imminence of Majora, harbinger of doom and misery. A curtain of darkness spreads over the plains. Draped in nightfall, the atramentous sky remains starless. As the moon seemingly grows larger, the air thickens with the fumes of death. From poisonous swamps, to monolithic mountains, from cerulean oceans to barren dunes of sand, vile energies emanate from the four corners of the earth, (an aura of) desolation brooding over Termina. Inevitably, a mysterious sphere looms above the cursed landscapes. Doomed, the Terminians wait in disbelief as the moon is drawn down upon the earth. And far beyond the mountains, the stone tower stands alone as an ominous reminder of their heresy.