Two months have passed. Not from design, nor delay.
We return when the current draws.
This night bears no name beyond its own.
No frame, no construct.
Only pressure.
Only sound.
The Lair is not a place, but a condition: the pressure before form, the stillness that outlasts sound.
That which moves beneath perception does not arrive — it emerges where the surface fails to hold.
This is no summoning. It is an alignment with force unbound. A rhythm that precedes structure.
Call it nothing.
Call it Leviathan.
A night shaped only by what rises: black, death, and thrash metal drawn without concession, mixed for those who would listen as if from the other side.
There are no bands. No spectacle. No apology.
---
Cult of Dissolution returns one week and one day before Samhain.
Details remain sealed.
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