The First Door

[Track 5 of the concept album "The Abyss Gazes Back"] The air grows thick, the stone turns smooth, a silence coats the room, Within the door, a shadowed space, a chamber carved of gloom. A needle hangs, a stalactite formed of gears and tempered steel, Its presence hums with patient dread, a force the dark conceals. The walls are etched with lines of script, a language cold and sharp, Each stroke a cut into the mind, a dissonant, foreign harp. Beneath the needle, polished clean, a table stands in wait, Its surface gleams, its purpose clear: to tether flesh to fate. Beside, a book lay stiff and still, its spine a brittle bone, A vial glowed with green-lit fire, alive, yet not alone. Eleanor steps forward first, her fingers brush the tome, She feels the weight of history, of lives beyond her own. The vial gleams. A scent escapes. The stillness cracks. A hunger shapes. “Don’t touch it!” Maggie’s voice rings out, as if to pierce the haze, But one young hand has snatched the glass, its glow a tempting blaze. The cork pops free, the liquid swirls, its scent a siren’s song, And in a breath, the first one sips, as though it can’t be wrong. The second grabs the glass away, their lips press to the rim, The vial drains, their eyes alight, their forms begin to dim. “It’s perfect,” one voice whispers low, a blissful, dreamlike tone, The other laughs, their gaze unblinks, “It warms me to the bone.” “What madness drives you?” Edwin snapped, his anger tinged with fear, But Eleanor, her hand on book, said, “Something stirs in here.” A book now gained, a green within their veins now glows, It pulses beneath the skin, they speak in fractured prose. Their smiles twist, their laughter fades, replaced with vacant stares, The air feels cold, darkness stretches, the room a field of snares. A ticking hum. The needle stirs. The walls breathe low. The dark concurs. Eleanor turns, her voice a thread, “We’ve found what draws us near.” But Maggie’s eyes are wild and sharp, her voice etched deep with fear. “This thing, this place, it’s not for us. We’re tampering with the void.” Yet Eleanor steps forward still, her gaze both calm and paranoid.