“I have known a few others like myself, harbingers for the Ancient Ones, waiting for the death rattle of the oppressor. We stare into that vacant socket repeatedly, apprehensively, and although the glue that binds us to this reality is spent beyond the struggle to remain flesh, we endure and when certain we will cover it with a shroud and be gone. There will be no malingering ascension. We proclaim the rebirth of our kind into the rapture and the Infinite Present.”

Excerpt from Ancestral Airs