Silence falls like a mantle upon the chapel's cold stone walls, stitched with shadow and the whispered echoes of the forgotten. Initiate, to the crumbling archway you tread.
The moon wanes unevenly tonight, a crescent wound in the sky. Fetch the runes, for they sing in the dark - a requiem for solitude.
Here, in the breath of old weathered stones, the ritual begins. Around the chalice filled with umbral tides, chant the verse of ages lost... a song only the shadows know:
"Initus, the shadows call thy name,
Profundum, their whispers sing of flame,
Into the void, embrace the silence,
Through the dark, the threads of defiance."
Follow the sigils etched in forgotten tongues, until the threshold blurs into the mist of our ancestors’ sighs.
Beneath the crypt's beckoning, you shall know the truth — but, beware what your spirit dares to awaken.