Other commentary: Into that Darkness peering... We are the Flame! There is a place, beneath those ancient ruins, in the moor, that calls out to the boldest among them... "We are the Flame!", they cry, "And Darkness fears us!" They descend, spurred on by fantasies of riches and redemption to lay bare whatever blasphemous abnormality may slumber restlessly in that unholy abyss... But Darkness is insidious. Terror and Madness can find cracks in the sturdiest of honors, the most resolute of minds... And below, in that limitless chasm of Chaos, they will realise the truth of it. "We are not the Flame!", they will cry out, "We are but moths and we are DOOMED!" And their screams will echo amidst the pitiless cyclopean stones... Of the Darkest Dungeon. Once again, the stars are right, and the Manor sits at the very epicenter of cosmic unrest. Cultists rally to their twisted idols, and great gongs sound in anticipation of the coming sacrifices. Far below, life-laden shadows pulse to the unrelenting rhythm of a beating heart... The blood of the fallen flows ever downward along these titan spires - the creature fattens itself on your failures... You have merely glimpsed the edge of the abyss, but it is enough to trigger the cycle of revelation. Now, like me, you will begin to see things as they truly are... The thing has no name, for it needs no language. Nevertheless, those who would submit to its wordless will thing are rewarded, in a fashion. The creature's blessings are as repulsive as they are robust. Twisted, half-human monstrosities stalk the flesh-ridden halls, protecting their gestating god. Madness made flesh! It crawls steadily upward from the pit, supported by the lattice of cyclopean pillars... The maniacal cultists are quelled for a time, but there can be no celebration. Your progress is measured only in progressive realization, and dawning horror. You are in the shadow of the end. The interminable stone halls are but an antechamber! The creature is vast beyond measure, and must be battled from within. Step over the threshold and let the terrible truth worm its way into your mind. The Gateless Gate. A maddening aperture to realms beyond human understanding... At last, the twisted heart of the world is laid bare – for sword, or supplication. Hell is in the Heart In all my terrible researches, what I sought was a glimpse behind the veil – a crumb of cosmic truth. I found it here, and in that moment of brain-blasting realization, I ceased to be a man, and became a Herald, an Avatar of the crawling chaos. Life feeds on life. In your petty pursuit of family redemption, you consume those who rally to your cause, and in so doing, you strengthen the Thing - accelerating the end! This is as it should be...it is why you are here. We are chained here forever, you and I, at the end of the world. Free yourself, rouse the Thing, and embrace the ineffable cosmic hideousness that lives within us all. You still foolishly consider yourself an entity separate from the whole. I know better, and I. Will. Show you. The flesh is fluid – it can be changed, reshaped, remade! The flesh is immortal, it is undying! Pray it does not take too hideous a form... Behold the Heart of the World! Progenitor of life, Father and Mother, Alpha and Omega - our creator and our destroyer! A hollow and ridiculous notion. We are born of this thing, made from it, and we will be returned to it in time. The great family of man. A profusion of errant flesh. Multiplying, swarming, living, dying. Until the stars align in their inexorable formation and what sleeps is aroused once more. To hatch from this fragile shell of earth and rock, and bring our inescapable end. So, seek solace in a manner befitting your lineage, and take up your nugatory vigil, haunted forever by that sickening prose, echoing through the infinite blackness of space and time.