An old God is gaining strength.
He is a hidden God. In fact, he gains strength from hiding. He has no form, choosing instead to shade himself under words. Written or spoken, he doesn’t mind. As long as the words carry enough weight for him to go unseen.
He goes unfelt by those whose words he inhabits, but not by those who hear them. He confounds them, crushes them, leaves them with a weight upon their soul. But… they don’t know why.
The words seem fine. They seem normal. One cannot see the darkness held beneath.