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There are sins that whisper melodies of madness through the blood; sins that sing to us down and across the generations ù no matter what the distance, we know them when we see them, and perhaps they know us, too.
Keziah Mason
She was born a world away in time. She died horribly an age ago ù or more.
whispers on the streets
That she's returned.
Returned as an old woman, ragged and unclean as any vagabond wandering the streets of Arkham. The sort of woman you or I might take to be an ordinary madwoman ù until we draw close, and see her eyes.
Eyes the color of dark light; eyes that glitter hatefully; eyes that watch everyone and everything around her with predatory yearning.
the child that she yearns for
There are no words to tell a child all the horrors that abound in Arkham and the world.
Not even malformed and orphaned Jason Laidlaw, the boy who is her misbegotten son.
A boy as innocent as you or I ù a boy who knows the evil in our bones.
A child doomed by generations made of evil, and damned by birthright in a city haunted as its name.
ARKHAM
Welcome to the city of fear!
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