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Eldritch Entities and Gods Short Stories
The Prophecy Has Been Spoken

The Prophecy Has Been Spoken

In the twilight's shroud, where shadows creep, Lies the prophecy of Kathralos, foretold in dreams deep. A tale woven in whispers, whispered from ancient lips, Of a cosmic horror unleashed, as reality rips.

From the nether realms, where darkness thrives, Comes Kathralos, the dread Messenger of lives. Prophecy echoes through the ethereal plane, A herald of chaos, with eldritch power to gain.

In the stars' alignment, a sinister design unfurls, As foretold in scriptures, to unsuspecting worlds. The veil between dimensions, it begins to wane, Unleashing the horrors that mortals cannot contain.

A creature of unspeakable form, draped in madness' shroud, Kathralos emerges, to the mortals' terror unbowed. Its eyes, abyssal pools of eternal night, Bring forth visions that corrupt, sanity taking flight.

The earth trembles, quaking beneath its wrath, As the prophecy unfolds its treacherous path. Whispers of doom in every gust of wind, And despair infecting the minds of those sinned.

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The sky turns crimson, the moon bleeds dread, As Kathralos descends, devouring hope widespread. A cosmic dance of chaos, it orchestrates with glee, Laying waste to civilizations, from sea to sea.

In the wake of its steps, darkness smothers all light, And the prophecy of Kathralos reaches its height. Screams echo in the night, in a chorus of despair, As the world succumbs to the horrors it cannot bear.

The chosen few, marked by the eldritch sigil, Stand against the tide, in a futile struggle. They wield ancient relics, hoping to stem the tide, But the prophecy's power cannot be denied.

With every passing moment, reality crumbles fast, As Kathralos devours souls, in a nightmare so vast. A cataclysmic climax, where mortals meet their end, And the prophecy of Kathralos finds its final blend.

In the aftermath's hush, a world ravaged and scarred, The echoes of the prophecy forever marred. But beware, weary traveler, the tale does not end, For Kathralos' darkness may rise again, unbend.

In shadows and nightmares, it lingers, awaiting its chance, To cast its eldritch grip on a new cosmic dance. So heed the prophecy's warning, in chilling dread, For Kathralos, the Messenger, may awaken from the dead.