Solesthic Order

Ribcages snap like brittle sticks, spilling entrails slick among grime, as bony fingers scratch and dig, pulling free from tombs in time. Maggots churn in festering sores, birthing life from cursed decay, as unseen echoes hum a tune that drags the soul and light away. Temple built of death’s own shell neath nameless horrors shriek and squirm.          DEAD-LOVE, Solesthic.