With leather straps and vines constricting his limbs,
an ominous glow spitting shadows at his back,

the night bombinates a processional dirge

as he's dragged into the
dark ritual stone house of fire.

Struggling to escape, scraping at the walls-
seeing something there.

Looking up at the night sky to an infinite darkness.
The tenebrous atmosphere

breaking hope, bending will, blocking out the sun.
Slithering shadows

mark the day of the serpent god's descent.
Paralyzed at the edge of flames,

masks of bronze radiate covering their painted faces.
Talismans and burnt incense
unfurled at their knees before him.
Baring forth obsidian blades-
eyes in their reflections.

Hypnotic frequencies resonating,
tearing through his hollow spine.
Spiraling patterns form behind his eyes.
Chants becoming rabid and harrowing.
Shapes in the umbra twisted into form,
weaving through the walls of the structure.
A cascading vacuum of light at the crux
tearing through the pitch black.

Slicing their forearms open,
filling the chalice with their blood.
A violent hiss breathes out
as it's poured in the pit.

Cavernous wretches rising,
proliferating vociferance.
Masturbating the lords
while the earth moans beneath.

Northern lights piercing through the veil
as time distorts.
Entities swarm the earthen gates,
ripping the cryptic webs.
Subterranean flooded caves
begin to boil
from the merging and the aftermath
of symbiotic realms.

Xic and Patan congregating in their thirst-
traversing upward, through the layers of torture.
The outer world beckoning their lust for blood,
leaving the razor house

on rivers of black scorpions.

Blood Maiden harking back
to the birth of twins,
lasciviously intrigued,

sets her eyes to the sacrifice of men.
Her libidinous incursion.

[Solo Sean]
[Solo Daniel]
[Solo Thomas]
[Solo Daniel]

Soils of fell trenches squelching in rejoice,
a feast for the worms.
Decaying sinew and entrails imminent.
Silence surrounds the vacant thrones.

Bound hands flail, ripping dirt,
eyes widen as he feels a weight;
tucked away- a half-eaten fruit
seeping with a poisonous nectar.

In a final strife to survive, calabash feeds the flame.

The sickle now clutched in the hand of the shaman,
the sound of the violent fire permeates
rapidly filling, the dome with toxicity.
The exits are sealed with piles of burnt debris.

With a swift claw,
Xic plagues the room.
Blood foams in their throats-
gasping for air.

Drowning in clouds of blood,
the shaman's grip falls from the blade.
The sacred space dissipates and the spirits retreat.

The man takes a final breath,
the shape of his son's face in the embers.
As the sun's breaking dawn, father and son embrace-
the gates of Xibalba sealed shut.

[Solo Sean]
[Solo Ray]
[Solo Sean]
[Solo Ray]
[Solo Sean]
[Solo Ray]