Friday, February 14, 2020


The implied vampires rise in Adarkah Ianqu's somber, electronic voyage, daughter of the night

The resurrection starts with the song of reintegration, after a corpse crawls from a coffin and feeds upon your supple, pale neck.

Step by step, the demon seeps deep into your soul, doing to you what Dracula did to Mina and Lucy, consuming your mind and heart with a long, gargled purr. 

You become one with the parasite that consumed you. Your hunger prevails until the agony of nothingness in unveiled.

You realize there's little left to feed upon, and so you, the daughter of night, revisit the decaying flowers in the old cemetery, a place in which death becomes your revamped life, stashed among the dank, moonlit mausoleums.

You are now a solitary entity, cold and cruel, a seropositive monk, for all intents and purposes, waiting for your fangs to spring, for your song, your reintegration to ascend, in hopes of adding another to the living-dead ranks. 

Your ravenous revival calls at

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