Memoirs of a Lost Soul
The mask must fall! You who discover this manuscript, understand this: I am here at your side. I am waiting in the darkness of my crypt. Soon, you will belong to me. One of my slaves wrote this document. I have lived for three centuries and my name is Ezechiel Pregzt or Eliah Pickford… You may choose which to call me.
I do not hide out of fear. My power is immense. I have sailed the seven seas. My ship, the Astarte, spread terror through all the continents. The corsairs judged me like the Welsh judges of 1620… But they could not destroy me, and neither could the pirates. Now, I am immobilised … Damned Yankees!
Witchcraft, voodoo and the Cthulhu cult… I know them all. I have reigned and implored the stones. Only the Chthonian haunts the cavern and resists me; but he dare not attack! I have need of a living body to regenerate myself. The Hartwoods managed to escape from me. But you who are reading these words, you will yield to my embrace!
I hear your ragged breath and smell the stench of your fear. I have vanquished death. I built Derceto. I know what it is to wait. Cthulhu helps me. My servants will lay you upon the sacrificial stone. My roar will rend the night. You will be mine and I shall reign once more. Come to me.