Tristan Robert Lange

within the obsidian turret

there exists —

towering tall, fading fast

within the cover of dark —

a treacherous turret

where secrets scribble

in silent screams

upon the weeping walls

of the obsidian enclosure.

loopholes of light — its only exposure —

bloodstone gleam glowing,

nay, glowering faintly from them

out into the pitch pall night.

the black onyx sky hides the blight,

absorbing the sound of voices

vocalizing out of the cross-style slits

like soundless arrows of aggression

falling on Lovecraftian worshipers below.

if one would dare enter,

dare to travel inward and upward,

if one could reach the traitor’s chamber

and pull back the green wizard’s curtain,

they’d find no elder gods in the mix,

just their trust that has betrayed

and their naïveté that has waylaid them.

First published on tristanrobertlange.com, April 7, 2026.

Tittu