In shadows deep, where fears are sown, A story stirs, its seeds unknown.

Eve’s scream breaks through the rain-soaked night, A park of whispers, void of light.

Abducted under St. Peter's trees, Her cries are carried on the breeze.

A forest wakes, a hunt begins, Where predators wear mortal sins.

Leviathan stalks with silent grace, Unseen, she shifts from place to place.

Belthazar waits where embers glow, His patience strikes the hesitant slow.

Mammon runs, relentless, wild, A hunter’s wrath, untamed and vile.

While Eve fights shadows with trembling hand, Adam writes tales he can’t command.

In his dim-lit room, the words he’s penned Unfold a fate he cannot mend.

Poems of sins in verses tight, A web of horrors cloaked in night.

Each line a truth, a whispered thread, Of love and fear and those long dead.

Through crackling radios, whispers plead, But whose voice speaks? And what’s their need?

A portal burns; a figure stands, A harbinger with fiery hands.

Together they face the final door, A love entangled in sin’s lore.

Through fire and fear, through dread and flame, Will whispers fade, or curse their name?

So step into the haunted frame, Where love and terror play their game.

In sins and shadows, lies are said — You failed to survive the Whispers of the Dead

In virtue and light, truth is said — You have survived the Whispers of the Dead