Letter From 1865

One of the most surreal experiences I've ever had was during my time in the country's northern forests. At the time I was staying in a dingy hotel on the edge of civilization. This was before Milland was founded, and the entire area was devoid of infrastructure. Part of my job was scouting the area for potential sites to build a new town.

To this end I trudged through miles of untamed wilderness in all sorts of weather. Usually it was a windy, muddy hell. No matter how much sunlight beamed down on the earth, not a single ray reached the ground. It's almost unnatural how dark it gets. What's more is that the brighter it is outside the woods, the darker it gets inside and the other way around. At night shafts of moonlight coated every object in an ethereal glow.

It was under these conditions that I found the town. The monastery's stone embankments, nestled atop a desolate mountain where there should be flat ground, beckoned to me like sirens from the deep. Undiscovered mysteries surrounding that archaic structure drew me in and almost ensnared me in the mountain's grip of madness.

Climbing to the summit was surprisingly easy, as if an unseen force was pushing me onward. An elegant staircase broken up by blackened dirt trails led me to the place where dead men worship at ungodly hours. Despite the absence of life pervasive throughout the ruined building, a certain melody was carried on the air. Few words could describe it, but 'singing' comes close.

Heavenly voices chanted in incomprehensible tongues that tore my heart asunder. They drew me further inside with their delicate whisper of "come, come", where I found a lone organ missing half its keys. Most of the pipes were rusted and out of repair. A music sheet read 'Hymn of the Angels'. I picked it up.

Countless memories, both familiar and foreign, assaulted my senses as I did so. I saw myself climbing up, up, up into the abbey, but I also saw my own creation through my mother's eyes. At the same time I witnessed the entire lives of some three dozen French monks. They found something in the caves. Something horrible, something ancient. Something long before the reign of man. The Toothed Ones were awoken, along with their terrible King.

When the visions had finally subsided, I was left with only a desire to take the place apart, stone by stone. After that I made up my mind to run away and never look back. In the end I did more than that. Never again would I step out of the city, into the dark wilderness all around. My apartment is barricaded at all times and I never let the light die out, for when it does, they will come for me next.