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she grew among silver moons and golden comets
They turn it over once
No one speaks when they step into it
The afternoon stretches on around him — bees moving slow
Now it hangs on a length of chain
Pact of the Outcast skull she grew among silver moonsIn the shadowed corners of forgotten libraries and hidden chambers, there are prayers recited not in reverence, but in defiance. The wearer of this piece calls forth secrets older than time itself hidden truths whispered only to those who dare to listen. Once, a heretic, no longer bound by the dogma of their upbringing, stumbled upon ancient texts long thought lost. In the deep of night, away from prying eyes, they whispered the forbidden verses
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