eldritch-lorekeeper

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Sneak Peek of The Heartache Chronicles: Red Flags

She was a stout little thing—though she was a pinch taller than him, maybe by like two or three inches, but she wasn’t anything like Hollywood’s conventional standards of beauty. This girl was chubby and on the heavier side, as opposed to some of these girl’s Archie worked with that were model thin and had smooth, healthy complexions. She wasn’t terrible to look at, but she definitely wasn’t cut for the part of an actress. She looked like a teenager in adult clothing, and her hair was full of clips, holding it out of her face and eyes. She wore a thick, striped sweater and a pair of jeans, but what really caught his eye was the polaroid camera around her neck. It was a bright carmine and looked expensive as hell, like the kind of expensive that he’d see only Blackwell or one of Blackwell’s bosses flaunt. Her eyes were big and looked like dark pools of ink, like two windows looking out into the starless night sky, framed with thick lashes and eyebrows that Archie swore looked like she’d penciled on to give them that elegant arch. It didn’t take long for that intense gaze to settle upon him…and Archie felt himself tense up in discomfort. The gravity of the Earth’s core suddenly felt a hundredfold stronger, and he’d have to have been blind or an idiot if he couldn’t tell she was staring at him.

(A description of one OF my main antagonists for The Heartache Chronicles: Red Flags. Without spoiling too much, she's going to be absolute unhinged menace to society. ;) )

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

"Your name fits between my teeth so sweetly. It tastes like sea-salted wine. Let me speak it again. I say this not for your sake...but for the Sea. She likes to know who will be joining her frothy depths next~"

Something i could see Salem having said at one point to someone down in the catacombs of the Temple, awaiting sacrifice to Cthulhu...only they didn't likely know that was to be their fate.

What a way to find out, amirite?

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

The Descent Down Below

//Chapter 1 - The Mirror

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☽

Once the Key of Solomon had been inscribed into the back of the tall, upright mirror with chalk, then came the jarring shift in energy that all but erupted through the guest bedroom. It was subtle…yet menacing, all the same, clinging to the air like an oppressive fog. 

A veil of dread and unease wrapped around her…until the familiar sound of his voice broke the tension.

She exhaled.

It worked.

Just as she intended it to…

“…Hello? Ms. Valentina…are you there?”

His voice sounded so clear and it was there with such a force that it was as if he stood right there before her, whispering into her ear. It was crisp, intoxicatingly sweet…and so profoundly comforting that it cut through the thick, oppressive atmosphere like a dagger.

Celeste’s lips curled into a tentative smile.

“Oi…buonasera, Icarus. Lovely of ye t’ join me tonight…after all things considered durin’ that ritual. How’s yer head? Still bangin’?”

She remembered that after she cut the ritual short, after the damned demon that caused her to abort it so suddenly, Icarus was still headache-ridden due to the backlash. He sounded as if he felt a lot better…which was promising, to say the least, but still. One couldn’t be too careful when the Supernatural were involved, especially demons, as some were known to be tricky—a well known fact when considered that some of her closest confidants were demonic.

Mercedes Santos being the first who sprung to mind…

“Still there, unfortunately. Just behind the eyes…but not nearly as much of a thunderclap as it was when…he…”

Celeste was quick to cut Icarus off, a noise leaving her lips that could’ve easily been interpreted as ‘I understand, you needn’t say anymore’.

"You needn't apologize to me, love. It caught us all off guard, and ye 'ad no idea 'e'd still be like that. Nasty little cunt, he is...but I know you 'aven't any control over 'im."

"Well, no, I don't...but it doesn't make me feel any less guilty. But for him to compare you to that of a woman of ill repute...I couldn't help myself, and I'm sure getting angry was what he wanted of me. I certainly don't see you as that."

Her expression softened.

From the last session, something was fairly clear to Celeste about Icarus, and it was that this man had a nervous habit of rambling and over-explaining himself, likely in an attempt to convey that he had good intentions.

Having been around on this Earth for the greater part of several centuries, Celeste had seen quite a few things in life. From Great One-possessed Cult Leaders, the fae, hostile creatures that she could've easily resisted, Icarus's story was a common one...but definitely something steeped in tragedy and grief.

To her understanding, Icarus was a spectrologist back in the late 1880s with the gift of mediumship. From the age of 8 on up, he'd been able to speak to the dead, and while he was without his sight, his hearing was most definitely not affected. To the point that he was actively seen as 'an odd child' or possibly insane in their eyes, since he would actually talk to the spirit that chose him, and even have them respond back to him. Most of the city he lived in at the time of his life was treated no differently than if he was Cassandra of Troy...but there were others that believed in him.

Granted those people were also wracked with grief and wanted nothing more than to have closure for their loved ones, which made it easier to disprove that Icarus wasn't a medium, and could've been using this to his advantage for money and reputation...but the aura he emanated told Celeste that he was completely telling the truth.

And the truth was Icarus was a good man with a pure heart.

He just really wanted to speak to his wife again...and a demon decided to capitalize off of his suffering. Grief was truly a funny thing when it came to any and all rational thought, and Icarus was no different in that regard.

"Thank you, Icarus. That's truly kind o' ye t' say...but i do have a question for you. If yer willin' to listen..."

She trailed off, contemplating her next question carefully.

"Go on. I'm listening."

"If i told you there was a way t' bring you back t' the land of the living...would you be willin'?"

There was a moment of silence, and it was the most deafening thing to her. Celeste honestly feared that she'd lost connection for a moment, until she suddenly heard Icarus's voice again, this time quieter and slightly shakier. She wasn't sure what she was thinking.

Maybe it was out of loneliness?

She could feel his facial expression practically contort into something unreadable as he tried to come up with a sufficient answer. Did he even want to be given a physical form? To be alive again, and deal with the demon that had been haunting him for months until the end of days?

Icarus leaned into the mirror, pressing his forehead against the barrier. His figure in the foggy glass was more visible to her, and Celeste started to make out more of his features. The sharp cheekbones, a nose implying his Greek heritage, and those familiar wide, unseeing eyes that look like they see all time all the time...

But this time, they were half-lidded. Sleepy, even.

Just as soft as they could be...

"If...if you're willing to, despite the evil I've been accursed to carry...then yes. Yes, i would," came his reply, in a low voice that fogged up the glass on his end.

He whispered a barely audible 'come here', which Celeste complied with, taking a few steps forward before resting her forehead against the glass as well. Right where he was...even if the two were divided by a barrier, in realms apart, it was close enough to having him in the room with her.

Dark emerald eyes flitted shut, and she instinctively raised a hand to the glass.

Gods above, why must you be there? Why can't you be here?

She wanted to tell him this, but kept the thought to herself as he continued on.

"You haven't...any idea what this means to me, Ms. Valentina. For you to give someone like me, someone cursed to live with a being whose only intent is to make your life a living hell, a second chance. Not many of my time would be as forgiving or willing to accept that. It's more than I could've asked for...and yet, here you are offering me a way out," he laughed, trailing off, "I don't believe I'm worthy of all of your kindness...not after the sins I've committed."

"It's nothin'...this is my decision, and mine alone. An' right now, I want you to be here with me..."

She shifted carefully, so that part of her side and back was to the mirror's glass. With how she sat down, the white midi skirt she wore gave the illusion of a fine foam covering her legs. Celeste could sense Icarus following her to the ground to sit with her.

There was a long silence that followed there after, in which neither spoke, but instead simply basked in the other's company. With how she was positioned, Celeste almost appeared asleep. That is, if it hadn't been for her expression...

"...Erm, wouldn't...wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed? Surely, this cannot be comfortable..."

"Mmph...you'd be entirely surprised. I've slept in more...questionable positions. This is actually quite comfortable," Celeste attempted to argue, but simply found herself unable to. Instead, sleepiness fell upon her the moment she began to make herself more at home in that spot. After a whole day of trying to get that Key of Solomon just so, it hadn't dawned on her just simply how tired she was...so now that she'd been able to relax, that she had confirmation that her ritual had worked, and it was set what she was going to do, she could rest.

At least, for the moment. It would probably be one of the last times she could in a while...

Icarus sighed.

"Ms. Valen—"

"Save th'—", a yawn followed, "Save th' formalities, won't you? Call me Celeste. Make a woman feel old, why don't'cha...?"

"...Right. Customary, i do apologize...but in all seriousness, this isn't a place to be sleeping. I assure you, all is fine if you go to bed. You should try to get up and go to bed..."

In response to this, Celeste made a noise of disagreement.

"You aren't my mum...an' the bed's too cold. Don't like th' cold, 'Rus."

"Well, i don't imagine you would. No one would...but even still, it'd offer you a better night's sleep than the floor. You really must get up..."

"Noooo, don' make me move, anima mia...even if you're not 'ere, i still enjoy ye bein' close..."

Icarus's heart melted at the choice of pet name. If he remembered correctly, it was Italian.

My soul.

-Well, isn't this just a cozy sight? Why, if we weren't in these infernal Crossroads, I'd simply love to have her. She's a pretty, little thing, is she not~?-

A purr in his ear was all it took for Icarus to freeze and his face to burn. While it wasn't anything particularly unsavory...it was enough to not leave much to the imagination what they were talking about.

His heart dropped.

No. Not here. Not now.

-Oh, COME now, Icarus. What's the harm in admiring her beauty? I certainly don't...ever the taste in women, i see.-

Well, perhaps, YOU can...all I'm left to do is imagine, if possible. Without sight, I'm afraid I can't say the same as you, Cthtimbria..., he mentally retorted.

A baritone laugh followed, -Suit yourself. Tis only in jest, anyhow...this will suffice for now. Come. The lady sleeps...-

From the rhythm of her breathing, she sounded so peaceful laying there. He almost didn't want to leave, and the desire to come through the glass and hold her was strong. Shuffling soon followed, and it was fairly clear to Icarus that Celeste was going to curl up in front of the mirror for the night. There felt no point in moving someone who refused to move, so with that, he ended their transmission.

"Good night, Ms. Valentina."

He whispered softly as he pulled the opalescent leaf from the body of water before The Whispering Tree, and tore it in two, which severed the connection. Icarus then sighed, before settling with his back against the tree's trunk. While he couldn't see, the air around him in The Crossroads felt still and quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the undergrowth and murmur of the forest floor.

The assumption he could make was that it was that one of the guardians was passing by. They didn't bother him for the most part, but with The Rider lurking around, it was hard to say if it was them or him...but given that he was almost always atop a horse, it made telling where he was easier. As a spectrologist, Icarus knew the being in question was more than likely a Dullahan, a headless fae whose job was to collect the souls of the dead and bring them to where they needed to be.

They were almost like psychopomps...almost, being the key phrase.

It was never stated in Irish mythos if they were considered such, but the role's resemblance was uncanny...and Icarus wasn't sure he wanted to find out if this being was malevolent or not.

Yet, as his mind drifted, he wondered what Celeste might have looked like?

Was she one to wear makeup? Or did she wear a natural face?

What color was her hair?

How tall was she?

Did she have a shapely figure, or was she on the curvier side?

"Cthtimbria."

-Hm? What is it you want now? It's not often you wish to actively speak to the likes of me, now. I'm not sure if i'm surprised or honored.-

"I'm curious...I can't see her, and it's doubtful I ever will. I know her by name and personality...but not of her appearance. Do you think you can provide me with some details?"

-Details, hm~? Gladly. Her complexion is a rich tan, as if kissed by the Mediterranean, with long black hair that falls past her waist. She also has the most beautiful emerald green eyes. The kind of eyes that remind one of the Romani dancer, Esmeralda. From the novel about a certain Hunchback...and she has full, rouge red lips. Gods, does she have a figure that would put Aphrodite to shame, and has curves in all the right places. Tall, amazonian Queen of a woman, if i had to assume by those legs...probably 6'0" even. She has a lovely ass, too...makes up for the fact that she doesn't have the breasts to fill your palms, and—-

"Enough, enough! Για την αγάπη του Θεού, με αηδιάζεις!"

Cthtimbria laughed hysterically at Icarus's expense. It was actually seldom that he ever spoke his native tongue. While he knew it, both in life and even in death, it was a rarity that he spoke it simply due to insecurity. While most time, Greek could be a soft language, it was anything but for Icarus.

The only person who minded it was Natalia, and she was...

No.

No, no, no—

He refused to think about her.

Not after what Cthtimbria had done to him, especially in order to get to him and possess him in the beginning...

-Relax, Icarus. Gods, I forget how literally you take me...in all seriousness, she's quite beautiful. I can understand why you would ask me...even those with their sight would wonder what she was like naked.-

In spite of his burning face, his eyes grew heavy with sleep as he stared out into the fog of the twilit forest. It was so comforting that eventually, Icarus gave in. It wasn't like anyone really dared to mess with him whilst he laid under The Whispering Tree. The only way the Guardians would come running is if something horribly wrong...and oddly enough? 

Even with Cthtimbria's looming shadow over him, the Guardian's continued to leave him be...and as long as he stayed out of the Rider's way, there was nothing to worry about.

He knew that soon, probably very soon, someone on the other side was about to make his liberation come to fruition…

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

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[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Matt: "...One'a these nights, i'm gonna fill yer coffin full'a glitter, jester." Vieri: "You assume i sleep, garçon. How adorable~" Matt: (Mildly terrified and confused) "You don't?" Vieri: "Wouldn't you like to know, little shadow?"

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Extra Scene - "...What Happened to You...?"

Not a Salem thing...but definitely one that i'm proud of, for an OC that is based off of a muse i used to absolutely adore playing as back in the early days of my RP era.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆☁︎｡ﾟ⋆

In the darkness of the room, since only the night couldn't burn him like a sun's blistering rays could, the two of them laid together in silence, like the quiet itself wished to speak.

Then, finally—

"...What happened to you...?"

For the longest time...Vieri didn't move from his spot on the bed. Instead, he laid with one arm beneath his head, and the other around them where they were laying against his side. He wasn't warm, but he wasn't necessarily cool to the touch like most undead would be.

Instead, rather, his weight existed there.

It was...something of a strange concept to explain when asked, but it wasn't exceptionally hard to tell that Vieri wasn't alive. Not anymore.

"M'amore...I fell in love," he finally said.

It was then they'd turned towards him slight, surprised at the softness of his words. They weren't certain of what they expected, but it wasn't that. Though, they supposed it made sense, since love tended to a common denominator in a lot of factors in people's motives and transformations.

Be that man, monster, or...something else.

He continued, nevertheless, now that he had your undivided attention.

"She was brilliant. Stubborn comme une mule. Fierce. Terrifying, even. But such is the mark of a strega, non? It is a terror like the stars, when thou learn how many are morte de secoli—dead for centuries," Vieri quietly chuckled. The reddish glint in his eyes looked like dying embers in the dim light of the room, with the only form of light being the faint wash from the streetlights outside, "She told me i made her feel...less a monster...and i told her she made me feel like i'd still una vita in più da vivere—one more life to spend."

A pause.

"Lucinda...she believed me. At first."

Ah. There it was. It explained the use of past tense when he spoke of her. They waited, then came that familiar shift of something deeper in the air.

"She was a fugitive, ma belle. A deer born unto fire and chased by man who feared what they didn't understand. Always watching the shadows like wolves, and awaited the day they'd burn her for the blesteme in her blood...until the day came she believed that shadow to be me."

His voice was reverent. Soft.

"But it ne'er was. Non. She cursed me not for what i'd do, but for what i'd might. Tradire. She feared i'd love another. Cast her back unto lupii...", their eyes soon met in the darkness, "But i never did."

His gaze never wavered. Their breath caught in their throat as Vieri continued with tale of how he turned from man to creature of the night. "I never betrayed her. Nu puteam. I couldn't...but fear, it needs no truth. Only a moment. A crack...and that night, it did."

Vieri looked away again, this time back up towards the ceiling. The look in those eyes implied that he was remembering something he didn't wish to...yet couldn't help but recall the moment of his turning, the moment she cursed his soul to corrupt upon death.

Then came what they feared...and it made them want to cry for him.

"When the curse took hold, I thought death would free me. So, from le balcon de sa maison...i cut the thread that allowed me entry, and let myself fall unto stony earth. But her hex...it was stronger than bone, stronger than the grave..." A bitter smile formed upon his lips, "Now, i wake without breath, walk with no pulse, and the cruelest part of it? Încă o iubesc. I still love her."

At this, they were quiet. Instead, they reached for a hand...no words, just simply presence. Vieri didn't once stop them.

"You...you don't hate her?"

"Hmph...non. I hate what fear made of her. I hate what it turned me into...but her? Mon Lucinda? Non, dragă mea. I do not hate her."

Then, softly, like a secret revealed.

"Nu mor nici când tu o faci—Some things simply do not die when you do."

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Gonna start queueing up some posts this weekend and starting Monday to in Thursday for a few weeks. With how chronic fatigue is, idk how much I'll be on so I figured I'd fill up my queue.

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

🌙☁️ candles. bruised pages. haunted hearts. Support stories that taste like sorrow and starlight.

🖋️ fiction • poetry • divine messes • beautiful monsters 🫂 created by a chronically ill writer trying to survive 🎁 early access + exclusive content for patrons

join my little coven of readers here → Eldritch-Lorekeeper

(And hey, it's ok if you can't support...but a little reblog goes a long way. UwU)

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Uuugh...my teeth and head are killing me.

Stupid migraines. Stupid dental issues.

Why now...?

Currently, my right eye feels like an ice pick is being shoved in it, and my teeth on that side ache because my shit is broken. Broke like my happy ass, who doesn't get paid until tomorrow night...

Tonight's closing shift is gonna be... interesting, to say the least...

For those who don't understand, I have... pretty bad teeth due to acid reflux. So some of them are broken pretty badly, and with exposed nerve endings...yeah. 🙃

It's... pretty painful atm.

Before you panic, I do have an appointment this month to have it taken care of.

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

📚 Works in Progress Update: August Edition

🕯️ The first steps are quiet. But something is already watching.

Hey there, lovelies.

August is shaping up to be a big month here. Whether you’re new to this space or you’ve been around since the early sparks of creation, thank you for being here. I’m still learning how to shape and share these stories through Patreon, and hopefully, the support will help me find my way!

This month, we’re finally opening the door on two of the stories closest to my heart.

🔥 The Descent Down Below — Chapter One Coming This Month

A witch, a broken man, and a very long way down.

The journey begins—at last.

Celeste Valentina enters the first Ring of Hell alongside Icarus Whateley, the man she risked everything to save. But Hell has changed. It's not just fire and ash—it’s memory, it’s madness, and it’s watching them back.

🕯️ What to expect:

Chapter One release this month

Soft lore drops about the Seven Rings, The Demonic Advisors, and Hell itself, as well as its royalty.

💔 The Heartache Chronicles: Red Flags — Chapter Two is Underway!

Some wounds don’t scar. They fester.

The shooting for Doll Amid Giants is underway, and Archie is about to be reunited with an old friend. One who's been there since the beginning of his career in the industry...but with her, comes his biggest fan.

And he's about to find out quickly that she's not as sweet as she seems

“Hey, remember that script you threw out? The one that one fangirl sent you? It showed back up in your dressing room.” “Lys...I told you, I burned that.” “Yeah. That’s the weird part...”

🩸 What’s coming:

Chapter Two in the works

Character info about some of those who will appear, such as the leading man himself and a few more!

Various loredrops, because i'm just so, SO excited to share what i have thus far

🫣 A Call from the Void — Bonus Scenes, Softly Unnamed

I'll be also tossing in some extra scenes. Not everything I’ve been writing this month belongs to either story. Some scenes float—out of time, out of place, out of reach.

A man with a voice like honey and smoke, a presence so magnetic, a forbidden song so beautiful that you won't want to turn away...and a feeling in the fathoms that something ancient is waking up.

“He didn’t ask for devotion. He simply expected it.”

These are just one-shots and drabbles. They aren't canon to the stories on here. A little something-something that hint at something (...or should i say, someone) darker on the horizon.

Thank you again for your patience as i attempt to navigate all of this. Patreon is new to me...but these stories aren’t.

Here’s to first chapters, second chances, and whatever the fuck that thing in the corner of the mirror is!

...Seriously, what the fuck IS that...?

With ink & ruin,

Mx. Lorekeeper

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Wanna know more about Celeste, Icarus, or Cthtimbria? Send an ask. We’ll see who answers...

(For the next day or two, y'all can send me IC asks, and i'll answer with an OC of my choosing out of the current three introduced. This could either be chaotic, or hella interesting.)

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Sometimes I feel like no one sees me unless I bleed onto the page.

Being a writer with chronic pain means I don’t always know when I’ll have energy.

But when I do...? I tend to write like i'm running out of time. Like it's the last thing holding me together. Patreon helps me do that safely, sustainably, and with heart. If you’ve ever found comfort or catharsis in my words, consider supporting, maybe?

🕯️ Eldritch-Lorekeeper

You’ll get early access, exclusive pieces, and my eternal love.

(And while you're at it, maybe spread this around, if you can't support. The more, the merrier UwU')

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

a list of "beautiful" words for august

to try to include in your next poem/story

Abozzo - a rough sketch or draft (as of a picture or a poem)

Agrypnia - insomnia

Bouleversement - reversal; a violent disturbance

Cachaça - a Brazilian liquor distilled from sugarcane

Cantillation - recitation with musical tones

Doloriferous - obsolete: producing pain

Fantasticate - to make fantastic

Graphospasm - writer's cramp (i.e., a painful spasmodic contraction of muscles of the hand or fingers brought on by excessive writing)

Immarcescible - imperishable, indestructible

Kakidrosis - secretion of sweat of a disagreeable odor

Ligneous - of or resembling wood

Metempsychosis - the passing of the soul at death into another body either human or animal

Nemoricole - inhabiting groves

Optative - expressing desire or wish

Pastourelle - a conventional form of poetic pastoral composed in French during the late middle ages and Renaissance and consisting of a love debate between a knight and a shepherdess

Secundines - afterbirth

Tramontane - lying on or coming from the other side of a mountain range

Vatic - prophetic, oracular

Vinca - periwinkle

Wiseacre - one who pretends to knowledge or cleverness

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

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So here’s the deal...

If you like horror, cosmic dread, themes of obsession, myth, or just hot mess characters fighting for their lives.

Then you’ll probably like my writing.

👉 Eldritch-Lorekeeper

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[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Ludus Mortis (Salem/Hastur)

✧ Ludus Mortis

The Play of Death

❝ She was mute when she arrived. Now she sings in a voice that does not belong to her. ❞ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After the death of his vessel, the Temple had fallen quiet—just the way Salem preferred.

Still, killing the poor man who had borne the curse of the King in Yellow for so long had nearly broken him.

Ashur wasn’t a cruel man. Never had been...

He had understood what needed to be done, and let it happen willingly.

That was what made it tragic.

Salem remembered the night after Ashur's death, he wept in his chambers for that man. Not a soul dared to come down that hall that evening, and even the likes of Torilda left extra helpings of meat and wine at his door. The mother in her ached to hear those quiet sobs down the halls...

That changed when he went to check on the newest addition to the cult.

But all was calm in the Temple.

For the moment.

He didn’t know her name—only that her jaw had been shattered so severely she couldn’t speak. Meals had to be liquified and fed to her gently, like one might a wounded animal. He and the other disciples had worked tirelessly, hoping healing magic might repair what had been so violently destroyed.

But even if her bones could be knit whole, she would remain mute.

Still, the kindness they offered her—their patience, their devotion, their reverence—was enough to sway her. She had come to trust them.

She would be an invaluable asset to the Temple.

Salem was certain of that.

He saw it in her eyes.

Even if he didn’t know what horrors she had endured before finding them.

There was something in her gaze—dark, hollow, haunted—that told him she had survived more than most ever should.

But nothing could have prepared him for the horror she would one day unleash on the Temple.

It began with unease.

A pressure beneath the skin.

A crawling sensation along his spine.

The kind that made a man instinctively reach for a blade.

Salem stiffened. Something inside him bristled—feral, protective, almost violent. It was strange.

This girl had never made him feel like this before.

So why now?

Why did he feel the need to attack her?

The low growl of his patron rumbled through his skull like a nest of disturbed locusts. His eyes twitched.

Salem’s fingers curled around the pommel of his athame. Slowly, silently, he drew it. Just in case.

The girl was inside, bent over the desk they’d provided. Writing something.

The parchment was meant for communication.

But this—

This was something else entirely.

What he saw scrawled on the paper made his blood run cold.

Salem hissed, a flash of rage curling through his chest like smoke through glass.

The girl startled, eyes snapping up to meet his.

Her face wasn’t like before. Not ruined. But still bound. Her jaw wired shut, mouth sealed.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream.

But her eyes—

Her eyes were begging. Terrified.

On the parchment, in large, shaking letters:

HE CAME BACK I THOUGHT YOU PURGED HIM FROM THAT MAN. HOW??

The words burned.

And then—

Cthulhu’s voice exploded inside his skull.

"HE CAME BACK? I THOUGHT YOU'D FLUSHED HIM FROM THE BODY OF THAT MAN—HOW??"

Salem staggered, breath catching as his head throbbed violently. It was a valid question.

Ashur was dead. That should have ended it.

But of course, Hastur—the Mirror-Tongued—was never one to let death interrupt his performance.

And now, somehow…

“Did you really think death would stop me, brother mine? How...amusing."

He’d returned.

In her.

Hastur purred into his mind.

Smooth. Wet. And so...wrong.

It slithered between him and Cthulhu like a hand on the inside of his spine.

"But I’m not done with this wretched little plane just yet. And this one—this muse of yours—she intrigued me. I only caught a piece of her name. But oh, how fitting~!"

A chuckle, followed by a rake of chills up Salem's body as he slowly backed away from the poor girl who looked as if she was trying now to make herself smaller. Those usually bright, monolid eyes of her were now full of remorse...and apology?

Salem's heart broke at the sight. But, Hastur continued.

"So full of fury. So utterly…wrathful. Have you ever wondered why her jaw was shattered, Salem? Or how? Lyssa. A name that means rage. Madness. Rabies, if you want to be crude. But me? I find it beautiful. She’ll wear me better than Ashur ever did.”

The words slithered in his mind like rot.

Cthulhu erupted.

-You DARE use my disciple as a means to project your voice through? To use him for YOUR stage? Brother, i will unmake your tongue and scatter its pieces through dead stars.-

The High Priest's baritone rattled through Salem's head like thunder beneath the sea.

Nothing followed from Hastur.

Then, impossibly—

Lyssa's mouth began to open.

The sound it made was unforgivable.

Slowly.

Mechanically.

Salem’s stomach turned. He staggered backward, bile stinging the back of his throat.

Wires tearing. Bone snapping.

Flesh parting with the reluctant rip of old seams.

And then she made a noise.

Something that might’ve once been a voice.

A rattling, birdlike shriek—like a crow laughing underwater. A violin’s bow dragged roughly across old strings. The low purr of something content…and ravenous.

Her face split into a jagged smile, revealing two rows of teeth—serrated and inhuman.

Thick, black ichor dripped from her ruined mouth like tar from a cracked altar.

Salem dry-heaved. Hard.

This was a man who had seen unimaginable horror, had seen bodies torn open, witnessed rituals that left minds flayed.

But this?

This was something older. Something wrong.

And it was wearing a girl’s skin like a costume.

-LEAVE. GET HIM OUT. N O W.-

Cthulhu’s snarl carved through his brain like a blade. Salem flinched, body pulled taut like a string on the verge of snapping.

“GET OUT!” he barked, voice ragged, stumbling back. His eyes met Lyssa’s—no, Hastur’s—just long enough to see something twitch behind them. Something ancient.

And then—

Darkness.

A scream. His? Hers? He wasn’t sure.

A thousand mouths speaking his name in languages he couldn’t remember.

A split-second flash of yellow teeth, and a stage draped in rot.

Then—

Silence.

Salem woke on the cold stone floor, sore, aching, and soaked in blood.

Not his.

Probably.

It wasn’t his most creative resurrection. But he was alive. And that was the problem.

Because she was gone.

Lyssa—whatever was left of her—was no longer in the Temple.

Her aura had vanished completely. And with it…

So had Hastur.

The King was loose.

And the curtain hadn’t even risen yet.

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

Cantus Lacrimarum (The Song of Tears - Salem)

A/N - Salem using his siren-like mannerisms to lure folks out to sea? It's more likely than you think. ;) You can pry this trope out of my cold, dead hands. Also, yes. I did write the lyrics to the song he's singing...it's actually a mix of two different instrumentals from the same game franchise, fun fact!

"Follow me into the fathoms, deep into the blackest abyss..."

You aren't sure where the voice is coming from, especially since it's so dark and your phone flashlight is only offering you so much...but it's clear.

Doleful.

Sweet.

Like his voice is crying out for you to come closer to him...

As you look ahead, you catch a shadow sitting in the tide. The form appears quite comfortable where they sit, and the singing appears to be coming from there.

"I...I can keep you safe...i promise~"

All of a sudden, it's like your feet are moving on their own, in spite every fiber of your being screaming wildly to run away.

It sounded wrong.

Everything about it felt so wrong.

You weren't sure how, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you weren't supposed to be enticed by this...thing's singing, its melody, all of it...yet, here you were. Shin deep in the water, with each step taking you further into the foamy embrace of the ocean.

"Beneath tides, i await, Heed my call, accept thy fate, Ever my beloved, ever mine own heart

Listen clear, to a song; In my arms, you shall belong, No more suffering, love~"

The closer you got, the more you realized the voice belonged to that of a silver-tongued man. With a musical accent that befit the singing, everything about this in your hazy mind felt so...

So...right.

...So, then why were there three pairs of eyes watching you from the shadows...?

[eldritch-lorekeeper]

"Maybe I did bad things...but I did them for you! Isn't that sweet, dollie? I did them for you!"