As midnight chimes, know this, Virgo: the spirits of the ancients ride forth from the shadowlands on this haunted morn, cloaked in chilling gales. A frightful quiver fills your body, and the curious chill it brings is not of this mundane world, but entrusted from the cryptic mists of the other side. An errant raven, a blackened ghost of the inky celestial blanket, brings a grave warning. The notes of your destiny shall be played upon an eerie wind, a spectral melody plucked upon the strings of your deepest fears.
Heed this caution, dear Virgo: the day is an aberrant waltz, entwining melancholy with cryptic prophecy. Beware of ever-narrowing corridors lit sparsely by a lonesomely flickering lantern; their darkness hides much more than your eyes can perceive. Wisps of the unknown manifest themselves in half-seen figures flitting in your peripheral vision. Though it is natural to shudder and clamp shut one’s eyes, open the inner eye, instead. Viewing that which stalks corners of reality less-tread is the key to survival in these spectral hours. Under the morose moonlight, beyond the veil of sanity, you may yet find wisdom.