Free Indigo Vamporium by Poppet[vampire]

lean into it.
    Clouds sprint dark and low overhead, and for the umpteenth time I'm wondering if finding the vamporium on this full moon is prudent.
    Up ahead satin foliage flickers Morse code in dim light, ghostly and ominous.
    Stepping between the trees my feet sink into soft mud and I pause to examine the strange copse. Touching the smooth bark of the nearest tree, I feel the energy of its kin spread over a fair distance. Each leaf is sage grey, velvet soft with a smooth dusting of fluff, turning the spear to silk.
    What a strange tree.
    Plucking a leaf I shove it into my pocket for later inspection, fighting the apocalyptic wind. The trees sway and rustle while gaps in the clouds flicker light onto the spectral trail.
    I can picture all manner of supernatural and undead lurking here because I have never seen trees like mirrors before. Every leaf on them reflects light, wiping them white, catching my periphery and forcing me into hypersensitivity.
    The phantom sentries wear halos of belched moonlight and it adds to the foreboding ambiance as I travel deep enough that I'm completely surrounded by the peculiar boughs.
    Gulping down fear, I search the ground for clues, feeling my way using my soul, not logic. It's like tiptoeing through a deserted cemetery, abandoned and creepy, the cloak of doom and remorse thickly veiling the apparitions hidden in cloying mist, scudding downhill as if released from perdition, rushing to greet me, hustling to feed on my hopes.
    Mingling with the haze is a peculiar interstellar medium. It flows tendrils of incorporeal wraiths across my path, cloaking the ground in a ghoulish glow. It lingers like bog lights, bioluminescent and vividly blue. Frisking the grass are tiny globular clusters which burst phosphorescent puss into the ground, the rime left behind drools a soft fading glimmer. Holding my breath as I side-step it, I'm grateful for the vicious wind washing the toxic magma away.
    Rain joins the party, sluicing down to add to my abuse.
    Struggling through the tempest, I follow the phantom trail of lambent. It trickles between my legs like arctic lava, blue as the ice hotel and shimmering like snail secretions.
    Pellucid wisps slither a shallow mist, cascading vapor of electric blue, and again I'm trusting my instinct that it's venomous.
    My throat is parched with tension as I slink closer to the glade of nickel feathered leaves. They glitter with raindrops like shiny trinkets hung to con fools and lead questers astray.
    Withering wind scythes rain so hard it creaks the boughs, their groan one of agonizing portent. Like unholy necromancers rising up from the saturated mudslide, the ground and air shriek with eerie creaks of objection.
    They wail in the shrill wind, yawning warning out to watchers, complaining that I befoul their unholy fortress.
    The thick mist is so low now it causes the mirrored leaves to bleed moisture, wicking quicksilver onto the ground. Leeching their magic onto the path they rain ethereal miasma into the gully heading straight to Hades.
    I must be close because the storm is curdling, whipping branches across my path, strewing the ground as if to wipe my presence off it in a massacred smear.
    Life sure has a way of hurling hail at me.
    Sliding, holding to slick trunks, I carefully step into the vibrant mud blistering with bubbles of bright indigo froth.
    The illusion runs, whirling aside to reveal the chasm.
    Staring through the funnel of imperial iridescence, the stone steps leading underground fill my limbs with iron filings stuck to an unseen magnet. Dread runs furiously through my bloodstream and my feet refuse to move. Something evil is down there. I can sense it.
    I can smell it.
    Vamporiums are for teenage vampyres, so what cesspit am I heading into? What has besmirched and desecrated our hidden sanctuary?
    My sixth sense screams so loud it scorches my blood.
    Violet flames wrap hands around my ankles, flaring up my sopping jeans in long hungry licks. The