My latest story The Labyrinth of Night in #46 of The Sirens Call get your (free) copy today!
A little sample –
No one knows when they built the Labyrinth of Night. Some say it has always been here, but that no one knew of its existence because the time was not right; people were not ready to receive its mysteries, its secrets. Others say that the labyrinth is always and everywhere and only for the few – a small elite, those tormented souls who seek eternal solace in the dark and lonely nights of oblivion; that seek the secretive ways of the abyss that are neither a part of time nor a part of space, but rather of that unreal zone of integral obscurity and rotten sentience. These wanderers of a forlorn thought, miscreants of perversity, would rather follow the patterns of this ruinous desire than meet the physical needs of its tenants; knowers of the labyrinth, caterers of those delicate strains of the hidden art of pain: tempters, alluring an abject art: a lost art of despair, debauches of cruelty and insanity; transgressors, excessive militants and renegades of the lost infernal paradise beyond the margins of existence. Miserabilists – all, each and every one, – locked away, solitaire, bound to an infinite void of nullity and self-derision; willing accomplices to the unraveling of all things: the unweaving of stars and worlds and bleakness itself; creatures of absolute nihil unbound.
—S.C. Hickman, The Labyrinth of Night