Zetra

Spectres have been stirring in the shadows for years now. Dark eyes watching from pallid faces.

Siren songs calling to lost souls. In the blackest corners of the UK underground, a name whispered relentlessly amongst the faithful, first with curiosity, then soul-shuddering awe: Zetra. “Zetra is another place, on another plane,” reads the scrawl on a tattered document, illuminated by both candlelight and the crackling static of ancient CRT screens, deep in the shadowy inner sanctum of Britain’s most mysterious band.

“It was built on truth. Fatalistic truth. Bad things happen, but they happen for a reason. Catastrophically, however, Zetra has been infected by the poison of falsehood, eroded – as with acid – at its very foundations. Now, a journey into the grey between truth and lies. A search for salvation from the deceptions that might strangle us all…” Two figures lead the way. These are The Wanderers.