The King in Yellow

In a place forgotten by man, before the primordial forces that bind the universe settled, time stood still. The Inhabitants of this frozen place went by no name. They were driven by fear, death, and chaos. Generations were born and slaughtered under the twin suns for glory, the gods, and fun. Hidden in these endless sacrifices a god spoke back. One by one these Inhabitants found their dreams plagued by The Yellow Sign. Within these maddening dreams, they slowly found order, they found a purpose. The sacrifices grew in numbers, but now they had direction. Under a sky of black stars lay an altar, illuminated by the baleful gaze of a cyclopean moon. An Inhabitant lay motionless on the table, unbound and seemingly there of their own volition. The Inhabitant lie surrounded by their peers, whose slow chants in a long-forgotten tongue, carried on the winds. Their chanting grew louder and louder until it reached decibels that no mortal being could accomplish. The Inhabitant leading the chant brandished an ivory blade plunging it into the chest of the motionless sacrifice, freeing their heart from the prison of their ribs. Deafening silence followed, almost as an anticipation of what was to come. Suddenly and violently the crystalline surface of Lake Hali fractured as the heart plummeted into her frozen depths. Seconds began to feel like millennia as time moved on a scale that no Inhabitants had ever known. The chanting started once more, although not produced by the Inhabitants but rather by the space between spaces. In these moments the Inhabitants fell into a trance as their thoughts were overcome by something that wasn't them. As fast or as slow as this moment was the trance was broken by an ear-splitting sound as the fabric that holds this realm together ripped. A gaunt hand found purchase on the banks of this ancient lake. From the murky darkness emerged a figure clad in yellow robes. It towed over the Inhabitants, its body was that of slowly writhing black tendrils, its face lay emotionless stuck in an expression of utter contempt, and adorning its head like a pair of antlers that caressed the sky itself. The figure rose taller as it began to speak directly into the Inhabitants' minds. Bombarded by incomprehensible muttering the Inhabitants fell to the ground clutching their heads in an attempt to stop this torture. Finally, the muttering began to make sense as they could now make out their instructions. “Build Me Carcosa”