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Description
Storm, fiery breath of lonely sands,
The black snake emerges from its rocky hiding place, its rings gliding over the dunes of time. Sharp fangs, the venom sparks the essence of an artistic and creative life. Feline-headed Djinn builders, a kingdom traversed with light-footed steps on dromedary vessels.
Golden eyes glittering without pupils in the fiery torment. Paimon, the lost gnosis of Atlantis in the obsidian pyramid. It cuts through the ages like the prow of a ship, spinning sand tornadoes through the steel mesh of patriarchal dogma. Saklas torn apart by the claws of the scorpion, spectral and ragged angels, demonic laughter dispels the illusion of the demiurge.
The city of the sands is only discovered by intrepid souls. Here are grimoires to drive devotees mad. Singularity is within reach, a journey into the dark abyss, an endless metamorphosis. The true transfiguration shines with a dark, burning fire, and only authentic, non-conforming, non-binary souls will survive the advent of the Prince. The others? No remission for those crucified to the bitumen!" Stance Paimon, Nanaël Vovin, 432, 4

Description
Storm, fiery breath of lonely sands,
The black snake emerges from its rocky hiding place, its rings gliding over the dunes of time. Sharp fangs, the venom sparks the essence of an artistic and creative life. Feline-headed Djinn builders, a kingdom traversed with light-footed steps on dromedary vessels.
Golden eyes glittering without pupils in the fiery torment. Paimon, the lost gnosis of Atlantis in the obsidian pyramid. It cuts through the ages like the prow of a ship, spinning sand tornadoes through the steel mesh of patriarchal dogma. Saklas torn apart by the claws of the scorpion, spectral and ragged angels, demonic laughter dispels the illusion of the demiurge.
The city of the sands is only discovered by intrepid souls. Here are grimoires to drive devotees mad. Singularity is within reach, a journey into the dark abyss, an endless metamorphosis. The true transfiguration shines with a dark, burning fire, and only authentic, non-conforming, non-binary souls will survive the advent of the Prince. The others? No remission for those crucified to the bitumen!" Stance Paimon, Nanaël Vovin, 432, 4