To those who’ve danced on the precipice of madness, who’ve glimpsed the Great Unknown-their stories remain untold. In a world where black and white bleed into shades of gray, secrets fester like wounds.

A precipice is a very steep cliff on a mountain. When you say someone is in a precipice you are saying that person is in dangerous grounds; and leaning towards a disastrous outcome or heading towards their death.

The thought of a steep mountain to many makes your hands perspire and feel warm to the touch and you get dizzy and the thought of falling brings on all sorts of emotions and it’s when you just think if I fell, I would be headed towards my death and that would be the end of me. In the realm of shadows loom large.

Big, bold dreams. Black-and-white dreams play out against a backdrop of twisted minds.

But what if reality mirrored fiction? What if demons whispered in broad daylight? Laws and regulations falter in the face of the inexplicable. Corrupted courts grapple at best with the impossible.

The secret society thrives-an underworld of satanic, rituals, romanticizing demons, obsessions, and spiritistic attacks and seasonal obsessions. Fear binds us, color doesn’t.

It’s the threat connecting sanity to madness. Those who’ve glimpsed the abyss-whose minds harbor secrets -walk a tightrope.

They dare not speak, for the world isn’t ready for the truth. It hadn’t until now.

Some stories defy explanation. They exist in the shadows, where fear and faith dance.

. .