Story 1087: Psalms of the Unseen

There were songs in the ruins—songs no living ear should hear.

In the withered heart of the Deadlands, where storms of ash blotted out the moon, there stood a cathedral not built by human hands. Its spires twisted into clawed shapes, its stained glass windows were filled not with saints, but with writhing, eyeless beasts.

It was said the Unseen sang there—beings not born of this world, whose worship devoured sight, memory, and even the soul itself.

When the last plague scattered the survivors, some were drawn by a strange music on the wind. A melody promising safety, reunion, absolution. Those who followed it found only the cathedral… and vanished.

Now, under a gibbous, sickly sun, Rein Varro, an old scavenger with nothing left to lose, crept toward it, a blade of bone clutched in his trembling hand.

He was not seeking salvation.

He sought revenge.