Speak of this to no one. Tell not a single soul of this or your subsequent discoveries.

My name is Timothy McNeil. I am the reverend of St. Mark's church, and until recently, my faith was unshaken despite a very open and exploratory mind, spent in a life time of constantly seeking knowledge. However, the things I have seen... they can shake any man to the very core.

I did not see wild horrors, no demons, no outer gods... what I saw was too abstract for me to put into words. Suffice to say I have seen the very fabric of reality and of creation.

But I am not here to tell you this.

I am here to guide you in understanding that most fowl of beings, that living shadow, that thing that should not be. Miranda.

I am certain, now, that Miranda was as we all were when she was alive. It is only now that she has become this abomination. Locked outside her body, her soul became withered, tainted, blasted by the winds around the earth between all souls and all things. There is a radiation all around us. We are protected as living things by our very ego, but when torn suddenly from her body, and clinging tenaciously to her brother, refusing to pass on an dissolve into the ever all-in-one, that radiation blasted at her, twisting her, mutating her into something far, far from a mortal soul.

And Joel fed this... thing. Where a sane person would run, or try to destroy it, Joel embraced this dark entity and nurtured it, helped it grow more powerful and more wicked.

And powerful she is. Her inky black tentacles stretch far in all directions, into directions unmeasurable by us. Her claws scrape along the border of our very universe, and her black stain of an image is bleeding through.

It began long ago. Have you seen it? Hyperlinks disguised in black, hidden links in this very web page. Search every page you can until you find it, for they are few but they are there. They are Miranda bleeding through.

Tread lightly, friend. She nears. She has become ever-listening and walks even now behind mirrors and in the space between shadows and walls. Even now she peers out at you, always out of sight, always in the corner of your eye. Can you not hear her? Can you not feel her breath just starting to brush upon your neck?

-- Tim