In the beginning was the shadow, cast not by light but by the ancient oath. The dreaded commitment, once whispered within the cold stone hallways, is known to slip effortlessly through the cracked lips of insomniac antiquarians. Hearken to this truth as articulated in Memories Beneath Stone, volume III, chapter unnamed, passage lost1.
The unwritten laws, etched in centuries-old lamentations, linger in places time has deemed irrelevant. A spider sits within her cavernous web, her threads spinning embellished histories of the misunderstood.[2]
Eternal reign of silence: a phrase echoed by the crumbling parchment; indeed, a promise inked with the essence of forgotten Isles and broken famines of hope. Refer to Doe's Hidden Worlds of Gothic Letters, section 9, verse uncertain3.
To an oath forsaken, for an oath not understood: the supplicant kneels. The warmth of blood now cold echoes between the mortar and vine; no soul witnesses. The soul sighs; thus, in dim reflection, one uncovers the eroded sigils of choice[4].