Her Misbegotten Son

Her Misbegotten Son the sins of our mothers There are sins that whisper melodies of madness through the blood; sins that sing to us down and across the generations, no matter what the distance, we know them when we see them, and perhaps they know us, too. Keziah Mason She was born a world away in time. She died horribly an age ago ? or more. whispers on the streets That she's returned. Returned as an old woman, ragged and unclean as any vagabond wandering the streets of Arkham. The sort of woman you or I might take to be an ordinary madwoman ? until we draw close, and see her eyes. Eyes the color of dark light; eyes that glitter hatefully; eyes that watch everyone and everything around her with predatory yearning. the child that she yearns for There are no words to tell a child all the horrors that abound in Arkham and the world. Not even malformed and orphaned Jason Laidlaw, the boy who is her misbegotten son. A boy as innocent as you or I, a boy who knows the evil in our bones. A child doomed by generations made of evil, and damned by birthright in a city haunted as its name. ARKHAM welcome to the city of fear