The harvest is never gathered from the soil; it is reaped from the mind's final, slow rot.
When a seeker of the arcane dwells too long on a forbidden concept, their perceptions begin to fracture. This cognitive decay is not the end, but a necessary state for a parasitic form of existence. The entity known to the Archive only as "Decay" waits patiently, cultivating this mental decomposition until sanity is completely unraveled. When the mind is a ruin, the harvest is ready. Decay does not reap life, but a terrifying new form of awareness—a collection of shattered, unblinking perspectives that are gathered from the ruins of a broken observer, ensuring the conceptual rot continues to spread.
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