Dark clouds hang over Scorpio’s dwelling as the harvest moon peeks through a ghastly veil of spectral fog. The shroud of night whispers tales of ancient eldritch mysteries waiting to be unearthed under your haunting sign. Under the witchwood trees that sprout not from seeds but from forbidden tales forgotten by time, you’ll find yourself intertwined with puzzles of old. Remember, the same ancient soil that birthed them births you, Scorpio; just as the elements conspire for your harvest, so too can they conspire for your downfall. For the Scorpion always crawls in the direction of nightfall, deep into the earth’s forgotten corners.

Instructions left on age-old stone circles tell a prophecy for those Scorpio souls brave enough to heed them. Don’t ignore the raven’s caw, nor the charm of bells jingling on an empty wind. Follow these ghostly calls, Scorpio, and remember it is neither the destination nor journey, but the shadows one uncovers along the way that define one’s fate. The aching fear is part of this passage; the closer you are to the abyss, the more vivid the echoes of forgotten stories. Look inside yourself, Scorpio – can you hear the primordial drum beats from a pagan past? This day, you are the conduit and the storyteller, etching a lineage not with ink but with blood and bone. Beware Scorpio; once penned, these tales cannot be undone. Fear and marvel will both be your companions today.