• The Void. Darkness swollen in deep. Oh, the barren that lacks all light, and who's apatite is never quenched. but in blood. Oh that that blood swirls around it, in its sacred ritual of taken life. May the Darkness see it. May the void welcome such wretched cold blood. That that blood be purged of the white. Oh the pure essence denies the blood of its vein existence. That that white let the blood surround that void. And thirst for every blood, every body, every soul that dares to rise itself against it all. See that the void is only in that blood? My blood. Mine is the blood that carries it. May you know this void? Or seek into it and find it? Can any hope to read it? No. Nobody can. For it is in my blood, and in my bloodline alone. That no other but he who is in my blood may know it. And few know it. And even fewer know what it is. For its name hasn't been spoken in centuries. I may not know it's name, for my ears are a virgin of it. And you will never know its name, for I cannot tell you. But, I certainly can show you what it is.