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Seven spirits surround me with spectral swords drawn to fill

whispering haunted chasms that decay air and tear through after to

bring out the soul, flay it, and set aflame anything that remains

Find Herein the Shackles of Curse:

I do conjure thee by name: Festering Embryo as is thy work

and thy will that thou comest now from all places

unseen to be seen and heard in a voice of our

wretched ear hear thy loathsome answers.

I conjure and constrain thee within the

Seven Great Seals

of

Regresus ad Uterum

as laid bare in the Invocation of

the Great Curse so thy might return

thyself to the Labyrinth of Nothing that

even thou cannot knows the ways forth for I have

concealed in my mind a place wherein Death may

dream and thus slip from thy pathetic grasp. Thy perfidious

spiritchain is taught, to deprive thee of thine kingdom and joy, pulled

now towards a bottomless pit of despair and torment Manifest as ash

that rains into eyes and cuts iris to blind as blood slowly drains as each cut

is widened by blade. Time slows and reverses to that of the Ancient Beyond as the

last drops of life fall into dust and drip into an underworld before now impenetrable

Consciousness slips and calls out to the Most Blessed

to follow while torturers trod flesh in the mire of blood