Beware, my friend. When you hear the roar of thunder on a cold winter night, never approach a window. Once again the King of Wild Hunt will succeed in his summoning calls.
The shining skies will echo to the clatter of horses galloping on the rough clouds towards the Bald Mountain, carrying the omen of war.
Smoke of fires shall welcome them, and the will of a single-eyed horseman will burn a great lust in those who approached his hypnotic throne.
Beware, my friend. He will guide your ascension. But the freedom to be tempted rarely comes with freedom to decide.
