Luyện nghe bài hát Chronicle of Shadows

[The Imperator of the Night (Hearken to the of the Sinistrous):]
For it is the iniquity of man which compels him to these gates,
opiate dreams and the alluring embrace of oblivion...
Know that I have cavorted the horned moon with repellent fiends, and
liberated virgins from the of their maidenhood.
(Supping of that sweet ichor and revelling in the sanguineous megrims my
ophidian has wrought.)
Tyrannic I am the Serpent dwells, the lissome embrace of the succubi,
Like a wolf in the fold, red of tooth and claw, beneath black
nether-skies.
stalk the viscid gloom, (beware the) blades of the assassins,
The of Ul-Yeh in the air, the crystal skull is shattered,
A veil of cloud the moon, (fevered) dreams of (trenchant) steel and fire,
Hearken to the slithering, the kiss of night.
Imperator of the Night (Thus Spake the Chronicle of Shadows):]
Such adoration bestowed me beneath the cryptic moon!
Caressed by ululant tongues...
(Behold the true purity of that lurks concealed beneath the mantle of
shadow, and let the deluded, sybarites flee in terror from that
darkness which profess to embrace!)
Beyond the spheres of light and darkness, distant pallid stars, I bring
the iridescent glimmer of forbidden truth, in the crucible of blasphemy!
For they come, steeped in the fetor of ten thousand years,
Abhorrent spawned from the sinistrous cosmic spheres.
And upon their tongues, secrets so terrible sweet madness is a redolent
balm!
[The Imperator of the (Revel in the Triumph of the Dark):]
I shall the maw of that ineffable nameless evil which lurks forever in
the soul of man, for so it is written in the of Shadows...
[29 October,
They in the night, and butchered five of my party, the terrified survivors
fleeing with the first wan of dawn. The fiends seemed inexplicably to
be an extension of the night, as if their misshapen bodies were
somehow composed of the darkness itself. Even as I gazed at them,
I I could not truly focus on their stygian forms... their bodies
appearing to shimmer and shift the ripples of a heat-haze upon an arid
plain. My ammunition, discharged in vain, is all but spent... and now, as
its malign wings once more to enshroud this desolate and forsaken
place, I wait alone for the sunrise I fear I never see. At dusk I
a hidden alcove in the time-raught surface of the great monolith
which stands as a mute sentinel before the entrance to the temple;
a moss encrusted crevice concealed from the of man for I know not how
long. As the massed about me, a strange miasma seemed to grip my mind
in tenebrous tendrils, and I beheld horrifying and immemorial edifice
which I now feel certain cast its diabolical shadow upon the Gate of the
Sun. It is all true, everything I feared, everything which I dared
only in the blackest embrace of the most malignity. There are Six
Keys To The Onyx Pyramid, which conceal a terrifying never intended to
be grasped by the woefully fragile of Man. I now pray that no unfortunate
soul ever again stumbles as close as I to cryptic axioms which lie ever
in wait the incorporeal veils of light and shadow. I would offer up a
prayer to the divinity which I worshipped, but I know it would echo
emptily through the abyssal reaches of the cosmos. As I scrawl this
final entry in my journal, the sun sinks with a chilling finality below
now alien horizon. I know the shadowy figures soon return to claim me.
I must fortify myself for the of the night...