Open the sections below to read the story.
Heed this warning, those who will follow the light.
As you descend further into the Abyss, the suffocating despair will begin to shift. The jagged stone will soften, and the shadows will bloom with radiant beauty.
Do not trust your eyes.
A child let a crawling mite tread slowly across her bare hands.
She placed palm before palm in a perpetual path, and the beast blindly set one green foot after the other.
She guided it gently to a flame at the end.
It curled, burned black on the coals.
Do you recognize the path?
Whose palms do you think you tread upon?
