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Description

Rowing... had.. to keep... rowing! Couldn't look back, couldn't face what he left behind! The pain of fatigue shot through Harold's arms. This water was thick... slimy. More an ichor than water. The island grew ever nearer. Somehow, the tree called out to him. The promise of solace beckoned him over. It was so close, he could nearly touch it!

"A husk..."

"A shell..."

"A temple..."

His mind pulsated, the heavy air weighed him down. His arm gave in and he let the oar sink into the murky depths. The viscous water sprang to life. Beneath the surface, his eye could pick up traces of movement, but he could not make out the source. The beating heart of this place attuned to his soul, for he was now alone among the hollowed out peels of what once was.

"To be inflicted with fullness..."

"A pain beyond animal perception..."

"To be relieved of one's paunch..."

"Of complacent stupor, of ardor, of being..."

His internal meandering was halted, his mind's eye was gouged from its socket. He erupted into a fit of addled screaming. There would be no solace this day, no escape. The Qlippoth clawed into his very essence. His mind crept away as the slithering horrors chewed his brain from within. There was no Harold, only another husk that once bore the name.

"To be empty is to be loved."

Description

Rowing... had.. to keep... rowing! Couldn't look back, couldn't face what he left behind! The pain of fatigue shot through Harold's arms. This water was thick... slimy. More an ichor than water. The island grew ever nearer. Somehow, the tree called out to him. The promise of solace beckoned him over. It was so close, he could nearly touch it!

"A husk..."

"A shell..."

"A temple..."

His mind pulsated, the heavy air weighed him down. His arm gave in and he let the oar sink into the murky depths. The viscous water sprang to life. Beneath the surface, his eye could pick up traces of movement, but he could not make out the source. The beating heart of this place attuned to his soul, for he was now alone among the hollowed out peels of what once was.

"To be inflicted with fullness..."

"A pain beyond animal perception..."

"To be relieved of one's paunch..."

"Of complacent stupor, of ardor, of being..."

His internal meandering was halted, his mind's eye was gouged from its socket. He erupted into a fit of addled screaming. There would be no solace this day, no escape. The Qlippoth clawed into his very essence. His mind crept away as the slithering horrors chewed his brain from within. There was no Harold, only another husk that once bore the name.

"To be empty is to be loved."