Isghöl, first born, will cross a valley of secrets.
Tears of blood will burst from his orbits.
An unfathomable might will raise in the entrails of Th'lhymon heavens.

Ô Saith - From its shadow, the ruins of ice will be obscured
by the cold immaterial glow of its ethereal body.

Ô Dithra - Its entire form will hide the fire of scarlet light,
no star will shine on this day of incarnation.

A pillar appears to me, an impossible color. I know its secret name.
I incorporate my delusional spirit into the nothingness of Ahinghla
to reach the mystical cone and leave the sweet purple
burden irradiated by the red spirit of Khinghû.

In a cluster of darkness, my psychic mind is circled.
An odulation of the atmosphere, an invisible force acts.
I observe the reflection of this lamp of supernatural brilliance.

A staircase of shadow, dotted with torches of changing and indescribable colors, only reveals the irrevocable presence of F'thbv.
Walls of gleaming stones, a foundation forgotten for centuries.
From its great dry wall, a beast dressed in blood and sulfur roars.
Fire tongues levitate in this ambiguity.

The spirit speaks:
"Your curse ends with the damnation of renewal. Kings will impose their
tyrannies. The big crowds will taste the impurity of the 8th seal of Bhlaav,
the color of suffering, and the Sthanistic domination will manifest itself."

The atmosphere falls, a smell of mud emanates from the ivory tomb.
I desperately try to get out of this nightmare of mercury,
but something freezes my will to stay with this abomination...

The waking of a distant tumult brings me in an inexplicable way through the angle
of a window. I see a circle of low intensity representing, in its center, a horse;
then a second appears, that of an emerald lion, his gaze turned to the east.
A distant jolt was heard, a green glow, a black consecration.
From an elevated temple, beings provided with
a metal bar decorated with crystals.
They call.

A frantic demonic, uninterrupted beat began.
The terrifying waves confronted my reason until the trance.
The green orb transformed his matrix into that of a static stone.
The sky lit up. The two inert symbols ignite...
A net stops. A geometric shape with impossible angles,
the circles unite in one, and a creature comes out of it.
Two green orifices illuminate the heavens, the Thing moves.
The monolith of madness whispers.
A growl.
Cries.

The priest chants in a voice with a terrifying and abnormally grave tone:
"L'hpthrstas xarntum xar mertezi elr raxtas delh martezlh
KZARLOCK sauristarium rrrrrrarrRaRRRRR"

Des entrailles de la terre, le Grand Due d'Orient, odieux comme le pire rejeton
d'Lthgard. Portera son plus précieux des trésors, serti de jade at de gemmes.

Sur une ile de tortionnaires, les nécromants fuiront la menace.
Son altesse en ce jour se délectera d'un plaisir des plus sadiques,
ignorant et gras comme l'avarice du néant.
Dans les profondeurs d'un abime englouti une créature
nyctalopique écrasera Sct'unh.
Son règne de terreur et d'obscénité prendra fin.

Lorsque le palais, d'or et d'émeraude,
accueillera les festivités blasphématoires des bipèdes,
un sorcier detrônera l'autorité et amènera
le malheur sur la terre des fils de l'homme.
Il empoisonnera l'orde césarien et sous sa fourberie sacrilège,
parlera dans une langue de démon:

"La pire vermine de la terre, la plus penicieuse ne pourra jamais m'accuser.
Car l'homme n'est rien et sa cupidité, proche d'une stupidité incommensurablement exécrable à toutes les autres espèces,
ne rendra la règne de Saurthal que plus grand.
Le Duc de débauche périra en ce jour, son âme ainsi que son peuple appartiendront dans le mort à la grande légion,
tels des cadavres putréfiés dans la crasse d'ignominie.
Ils boiront sous la contrainte la coupe des démons d'Ivoire."

Comme le jaune pâle des lunes ascendantes,
la couronne de Malachiar montrera la voie des éperdus.

De ma chair ensanglantée, un souffle de braise irradie ma volonté.
Une colline hallucinée émane d'un carré visionnaire.
Des plumes turquoise, une multitude de pointes émaciées.
Le collier de Ght'a orne la peau écaillée du Reptile rouge,
messager psychique de la réincarnation.
Lorsqu'une passerelle lunaire mènera au royaume cristallin d'opale,
le Gölgoth apparaitra, muraille de l'esprit.

De son souffle, les arcanes nécromantiques réanimeront les morts.
Je vois une armée de rois et de reines,
des pharaons et des empereurs dont le règne remonte à des temps mythiques.
Les vapeurs du Léthé voilent leurs yeux endoloris et vides,
une cavalcade nocturne de cadavres rongés par la maladie au service du seigneur, soumis à la tyrannie des la paix du néant,
les pratiquants exécutent les sentences sous les ordres
impétueux du glorieux monarque télépathe.

Listaël V se réjouira, lorsqu'un flux émanant de la transition rouge
accueillera les nouveaux résidents sans vie des martyrs...

Born from an union of slanders, I disintegrate.

An execration of life, I yell at the earth and the heavens.
Silly and stupid race, this fawn and disgusting beast is doomed.
Such a vermin should not have been born.
Heryah did not close the doors of the innumerable wombs of fecundity.
Why am I not dead in Sheol's ossuary?

Like an aborted and forgotten fetus,
they hide under the material surface of the sun.
An irrevocable whirlwind threatens the foundations of the earth.
The delicate overabundant belly crushes the mephitic offspring of Rh'th.

A dead star is rising on the horizon,
a sulfur storm is approaching.

Through the well of dementia, a burden of amber emerges from disequilibrium.
I dive into a dark ocean made of misery and misplaced spirits.

In front of me, a great fortress,
access to the obscene creation of the white pantheon of flames.
An embrace in the meander of chromatic aberration.
A thebal illusion of the lantern.
Glare breaks down the infallible rout of temporality.

The heat of the telluric desert takes me to lands of terror,
my receptacle of life is mired in the land of the fallen.
I observe the mirror cave, a silk shred glows in the smoke.
By a psychic medium, the demonic avatar takes
the word of a prophet and a dreadful madman.
The illuminated piece, culminating in the stellar disorder of formation,
takes the form of an unbearable ordeal.

He shouts, he begs me to sign the pact in this lost dimension.
He moves as fast as my broken eyes, I cannot follow him.
He whispers terrifying things to me.
With his black claws, he comes closer and closer.
A word...

In a sneaky passage of light, the Organic Eruption Tunnel opens its mouth.
At the bottom of the tunnel, a translucent apparition,
a winged amphibian welcomes me.
A flickering piece of cone adorns his scepter,
he continues his interminable conversation.
An eye and a mouth.

I cross a separate corridor in two, the black sky as roof.
The stars descend and rush like crazy.
The cone of lights moves and shines with a blinding color.
He tells me the story of Mercuryah and utters a curious hissing sound.
The chalice of the sabbath opens the door of the daemon.
A miraculous exit for Ystaël IV.

My previous avatar comes to me,
he wears a seal on his forehead and stares at me.
Formerly companion and representative of the semi-vegetal race of the
pelagic Antarctic, while arboreal of an Ukhth civilization of Aïruy'ah,
and sometimes powerful mage at the courtyard of the horned Lord.

Vast cliffs, the frozen mountains housed the oldest of the races.
Our union under the sun of burning frost will open the way, a loophole...

A life of an earlier past, a regression of age.
From the lunar commandment,
the beings of the spheres choose the directing matrix.

An abundant and secret work at the service of the ancestral dynasty.
The meta-psychic control of time...
The consequences of a cosmic aberration exploited.
A circular sphere in the heavens, a circular disk, floating balloons...
All pass the rift of the great divine and telluric doors of heaven,
the triangle and the octagon filter the astral passage.

I see the supreme telepath.
I hear a voice in my head, that of Istarielle,
his attention exceeds the concentration.
Through a lethargic transport, coded information travels through space and time.
A large chariot, carried by the big wheel of the incandescent clock,
silently crosses the red azures of Itshtar.

We will come together in a different shape to accomplish exchange
of telepsychic pain to conjure the portal of Shaög Og Magthöth.

The grave is waiting.
A white veil in the eyes.

The tongues of fire will announce the last word.
The vilification of the dragon.
I am waiting for my conviction.
I leave my old envelope.

A pulsation in my head.
I move slowly, a choke precedes me.
Regrets cross my conscience, no point of return.
Lost and forgotten, I am engulfed in death.
Deformed mist faces arise, stretched and white.
Terrified by their aspects.

A reincarnation of torment.
A dying god is born.