Whispers From The Dark

The King

Mason knew not where he was, his vision blurry, and his mind even fuzzier. He felt as if he was struck with weighty news and a weighty object at the same time. Dazzled, he got to his feet. Trying to settle in, he took in his surroundings. An abyssal black sky, filled with stars, burning with streaks of green fire. The ground was faintly warm, and reeked of sulfur and seawater. Great pillars of rune-engraved stone dotted the landscape. Acidic rain scorched the parched earth, and Mason took shelter under his cloak. He was definitely not in Portsmouth anymore.

Mason, scared yet indomitably curious, took his first step out into the unknown. His first realization was that he no longer held the Necronomicon. He thought, if that book brought me here, it's my only way out! Mason was stuck. Trapped in a terrifying new place, with nothing but the clothes on his back. And, bless the stars, his sanity. Most who read the fabled Necronomicon fall into madness. Ironically, Mason was lucky to be here. His mind raced with excitement, wondering whether this is where the mysterious "Great Ones" resided. He ventured off into the wilds, gripped with fear and curiosity.

Mason found himself at the base of a blood-red tree, recording his findings in his journal. He felt as if there was too much to discover, that he wouldn't be able to remember it all. Soon, this would become true. His mind and memories were slowly leaving him, slipping away into the void. Mason got up and set off to the largest pillar he could see, to try and translate the runes. As he approached the monolithic structure, he saw multiple small characters running up and down the length of the pillar in a language he had never seen. Emblazoned in the middle was a large symbol, glowing with a faint light. For whatever reason, he laid his hand upon it, and it flashed a brilliant yellow, and Mason withdrew, staring at the rune. It felt as if it was burning itself onto the fabric of his very mind, ingratiating its image into his being. He began to speak, "Have you seen the yellow sign?" over and over again.

He was still wary in his thoughts, but he couldn't control his actions to any degree. He tried to resist with all his might, which began to work, until he heard it. The whispers, the very same whispers he heard in the depths of the Library, now being spoken again. This time they were loud and clear, and very, very angry. He fought back for what felt like ages, and a sprawling mass of black blood and thrashing, whip-like tentacles appeared on the ground before him, a tall figure, clad in piercing yellow robes rose up from its depths. A crown gleamed on its hood, a white featureless mask underneath, a staff authoritatively held in its hand. Mason, horrified, gazed at the creature from the ground as it silently loomed over him. The very same sign from the pillar was painted onto the thing's chest.

Mason assumed it was some sort of cultist. He couldn't have been more wrong. Hastur, the "King in Yellow" stood before him, in all His power. Mason opened his mouth to speak, now free of the curse, saying, "Who....what...are you?" Hastur said nothing, but handed Mason a gem from His staff. Mason gazed into the gleaming blue stone, his memories slipping away even faster than before. A silvery blue stream of light connected his forehead and the gemstone, physically ripping out Mason's memories, his past, and all his knowledge of the Great Ones. Mason's screams of agony were drowned out by an unholy laugh from the Great One before him. Hastur took His gem in hand, and placed it back in his staff, feeding off of the stolen dreams. Mason's limp, unconscious body rested on the dry ground. Hastur took the scholar and sent him through a rift in the cold void of the space between spaces.

Maxson woke up in a dark, cold cell, unsure of how he got there. Unsure of even his own name. Soon, he would rediscover the Truth.

[Read Truth to continue the story]