The Inimical

The archaic dagger gleams with a dismal light, inauspiciously biding, as with a mind.
There's a voice in the wind on this ancient night.
A circle of candles and an altar to climb.

Scriptures bound in human skin.
A life to lose and worlds to win!

Procreating eternity in bloodstains on olden stone.
Sacrificial atonement: a gutted corpse:
another soul in the shrine made from human bones.
Chants the choir of hooded spectators:

"Leave no truth to dwell the grave,
but bear it through the halls of timeless dusk!
Preserve what flickers in the dark.
With fire burn to black what needs the flesh!"

Rising from the vat: a forbidden fume, a dancing veil of peccant smoke.
Lurking in the mist; claws and teeth and eyes, a spectral light in darkness cloaked,
a quivering shadow cast from beyond. Alive, there are no ways to break the bonds!

Materializing: a winged abomination, risen from the depths of time.
The inimical – the unnameable inhuman evil in its prime.

The archaic dagger burns with a cruel glare in the circle of bodies, slain in a mess.
There's a breath of the Beast in the nightly air: an ungodly chill and a smell of death.

The inimical – the unnameable.