I search through the haunted cold
A fortress of shadows lost to the winds
This black eldritch crypt that will claim my life

A cursed presence finally awakes from its slumber

In the dark down below lies wisdom of eldritch gods
Oh, they whisper my name
In dead tongues arcane, spewing black flame

I descend
Through haunted crypts of Brasov

Through the ice and the snow
I find the haunted crypts of Brasov

I draw closer to the darkened altar
In the center of this grand Mausoleum

Guarded by a creature vile and horned
Skeletal remains growing ever malformed.

...only in myth should these creatures be borne

In the darkest depths of eternal night
The blackest pits of the abyss I find
The Polyandrium

A tongue foul and strange,
Ageless and arcane letters on an ancient text bound in stitched ivory leather.
Inked in sanguine calligraphy by a hand not angel or devil or man.

OH WHAT FOUL MAGICK IS THIS THAT LIES BEFORE ME
GODS WITH THE POWER TO COMMAND NATURE HERSELF
THE PROFANE BLACK FLAME
THAT BURNS MY HANDS WITH A PAIN UNLIKE ANY OTHER
IT BURNS IN MY MIND THE MEMORIES OF A THOUSAND LIFETIMES AND THE KNOWLEDGE OF A MAGICK OLDER THAN TIME ITSELF.
A PRIMORDIAL FORCE STORED IN BLACK FILLED WITH INSCRIPTIONS OF CREATURES THOUGHT TO BE MYTH
THE MINOTAUR
THE CHIMERA
THE HARPY
THE VAMPIRE

In these darkened crypts I find the key to life everlasting
All waiting in its vampiric home of Brasov

A sanguine chapter begins anew as a blackened sky blots out the sun.