A pure veil of darkness. A mysterious fog. The Moon is full. And the Wolves you call. Red as my blood it is the sky above us. As I witness the arrival
"It is the dawn of a new morning at the Mountains of Silver and I would rather live in the ice than in the middle of the modern virtue and other southern
loud bacanal. Oh! Fausts and ninfs the joy of Nahima, Mistress of the Sabbat. Soon we'll be embraced by our father - the one with horns. Satan is rejoicing
