⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⣠⣤⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⡀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠄⠄⠄⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠄⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠄⠄⠄⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠻⣿⡄⠄⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⠄⠁ 👁️ ⠄⢹⣿⡗⠄ 👁️ ⢄⡀⣾⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⠄⠄⠄⢀⡀⠄⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠄⣰⣿⡿⠟⠃⠄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⠿⢿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠻⠿⢛⣿⣿⠿⠂⠄⢹⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡐⠐⠄⠄⣠⣀⣀⣚⣯⣵⣶⠆⣰⠄⠞⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠄⠄⠈⠛⠿⠿⠿⣻⡏⢠⣿⣎⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠛⠄⠄⠄⠄⠙⣛⣿⣿⣵⣿⡿⢹⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

aaaaand it's all over my screen

Ruin has come to our family. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor? I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor shadowed manor, fattened by decadence and luxury and yet I began to tire of conventional extravagance. Singular, unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic and ritual I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last in the salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth but we were in a realm of death and madness. In the end I alone fled laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity until consciousness failed me.

The poor Miller, thrice a victim. The seasons took his livelihood, I took his land, and now, uncountable years later, the comet has taken his humanity. My only regret is that I did not live to see that shoddy mill smashed to pieces by the miraculous bounty I reaped from beyond the void.