Entazis Zone by Dead Counterpoint Initiative

In Eastern Europe, they speak of a girl.
She appears at dusk among ruins—castles, churches.
She sits and weeps for hearts that once burned bright.

Locals take it for a sign. They dig.
They dream.
They find only bones, dust, and bitterness.
The dead don’t trade in gold.

But a few listen differently.
To them, she shows the source of her sorrow.
Each soul gets one glimpse.
Drink, and you carry wisdom not of this world.

I felt her fall through me —
curled on a prison bunk, ribs pressed to iron.
The cry drowned out the rot of the place,
where joy was drugged into silence.

That was when the seed broke open.
The Dead Counterpoint Initiative was born.

It traveled with me—
through dungeons of the East,
plastic dreams of the West,
mud-drenched hippy fields,
and Balkan camps that never spoke their names aloud.

A scout-magician sparked my memory.
I breathed life back in.

With old tears, it bloomed—
a dark lotus with no center.

Now it glows before you.
Fragile. Full.
Ready to share its pollen.

...as you enter the Zone, bring silence with you.
The quiet that hums beneath expectation.
Let your ears adjust to the curvature.
Don’t chase the melody — allow it to stalk you.
Time will warp. Echoes may arrive before their cause.
You might mistake pain for truth. That is normal.
If you encounter static, listen closer.
If you feel lost, good.
The only way out is further in.
Further still.
Until you dissolve.
Until only frequency remains.
Welcome to Entazis Zone.

The Initiative is a spectral architect of voices that slide between binary and breath. It is here to ignite what sleeps.

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