Who seeketh Northwards beyond the twilight land of Inquanok shall find amidst the frozen waste the dark and mighty plateau of thrice-forbidden Leng.

Know ye time-shunned Leng by the ever-burning evil-fires and ye foul screeching of the scaly Shantak birds which ride the upper air; by the howling of ye Na-hag who brood in nighted caverns and haunt men's dreams with strange madness, and by the grey stone temple beneath the Night Gaunts lair, wherein is he who wears the Yellow Mask and dwelleth all alone.

But beware O Man, beware, of Those who tread in Darkness the ramparts of Kadath, for he that beholds Their mitred-heads shall know the claws of doom.

Each night the dream comes, and I sink submerged into another mind, an alien form which toils in metal chambers cold, bizarre, amidst the teeming warren of a nightmare realm where insect- mages strive to pen below some monstrous peril scarcely glimpsed or named, which gnaweth ever the foundations of the world... O, Mother, Mother, ever the same dark dream!

Perched on the giddy brink of vertiginous chasms, elaborate metallic structures tremble and sway to subterranean tremors from beneath.

Untiringly, we mages seek and search the pentacle- inscribed plates and scrolls fetched hither from far worlds and fabulous, but without finding that for which we seek. The ground shakes. We ignore it, and search on.

My nine claws trace inexplicable hieroglyphs acid-etched in perdurable metal.

Through odd- angled apertures pour diverse solar colors in five distinct luminosities. Crouched on my prism, I ponder cantrips to hold at bay the bleached and viscous swine-snouted worms.

On Nython and Mthura, my brethren barter for more potent ensorcellments. For lack of these must the Nug-Soth perish in the foundering of intricate metal cities? Alas, the Mother remains indifferent as to which of the races of her minions triumph!

For ages and ages beyond all reckoning have the great Dhole-things lurked beneath, in noisome burrows where they fed and grew, waxed huge and strong beyond belief.

Now are their black and fetid nests below no longer large enough to any more contain such prodigious progeny. They thrust and lurch against the walls of thought-projected force that held at bay for aeons interminable the Doom of Yaddith. And the walls give way...

Through labyrinthine streets, under the burning suns, we gather to the meeting-place of minds. There the Arch-Ancient One exhorts of us redoubled labors holding strong the force which walls away the squirming burrow-spawn. And once again we float  to dimmest Xoth, and trans-galactic Stronti.  But in vain......

Sheathed in bent light, we drift to Kythamil or Kath. The fungoid intelligences of Nzoorl repulse our entreaties.

Even should we migrate to a world remote from this, the snouted worms can track us through our dreams which call like beacons through the eldritch dark... Nor can our cantrips any more suffice to hold at bay the loathed, unwholesome Dholes we never shall escape or long elude!

Our far-fled brethren, empty of hand, return from Yarnak and from ill-rumored Ymar, and terrible Shaggai. They voyaged far to Vhoorl in the remotest nebulae, to Zaoth and Ktynga, and, at last, remotest Phenoth beyond space itself, where rules the Crawling Chaos. They return fetching not hither that for which they sought -- the runes to keep the gruesome worm-things pent.

From world to world our brother-mages went for stronger spells, ever more potent runes; and on cold Abbith, where the Metal Brains in crystal caverns cogitate long ages by, they learned a fearful lore: the spells arcane for which we quest were known of old on Yith and Yith is perished untold eons past... Ever we toil on under the five-hued light, knowing at last there is not any hope.

Under the shuddering aurorae of the north, where glaciers crawl the meteor strewn waste, the thought-waves bring to us a tale of doom for City Three is fallen, fallen... No more the larvae in the breeding-pits shall mewl and slither, the Nug-Soth no more may stroll the broad metallic esplanade, nor mages ponder tomes of elder lore. For City Three is fallen, fallen...

No more are the departure-stages thronged. Now in their thousands are the Nug-Soth fled, armoured in closed light against the bitter cold and utter blackness that yawns between the stars. The metal pavement quavers underfoot, the broken towers totter toward collapse. I am among the very last to leave. For few remain to hold the Dhole-swarm back.

Inscrutable. The Mighty Mother smiles over her fleeing, her star-scattered brood, as night falls over Yaddith at the end.

We hurtle through the frigid gloom of space to Zaoth or Shaggai or Kythamil leaving behind the ruin of a world, and little hope have we to long survive. The awful doom of Yaddith we evade will soon be snuffling at our heels again -- The snouted worms can track us through our dreams.

( From Lin Carter's notes posthumously published as "Visions from Yaddith" and often quoted as a work of Ariel Prescott in the Mythos )

It is a strange dark orb at ye very rim of our solar system -- unknown to earthly astronomers as yet.

At ye proper time.. ye beings there will direct  thought-currents toward us and cause it to be discovered.

There are mighty cities on Yuggoth -- great tiers of terraced towers built of black stone. Ye sun shines there no brighter than a star, but the beings need no light......

They have other subtler senses, and put no windows in their great houses and temples. Light even hurts and hampers and confuses them, for it does not exist at all in ye black cosmos outside time and space where they came from originally.

The black rivers of pitch that flow under those mysterious cyclopean bridges -- things built by some elder race extinct and forgotten before ye beings came to Yuggoth from ye ultimate voids --(can drive a man to madness or ecstacy).

But that dark world of fungoid gardens and windowless cities isn't really terrible. It is only to us that it would seem so. This world seemed terrible to them when they first explored it in ye primal age -- long before the epoch of Cthulhu was over.

They have been inside ye earth, too--and the great worlds of unknown life down there; blue-litten K'n-yan, red-litten Yoth, and black lightless N'kai, from whence frightful Tsathoggua came.