The House on the Borderland by William Hope Hodgson

The world was held in a savage gloom -- cold and intolerable. Outside, all was quiet -- quiet! From the dark room behind me, came the occasional, soft thud10 of falling matter -- fragments of rotting stone. So time passed, and night grasped the world, wrapping it in wrappings of impenetrable blackness.

There was no night-sky, as we know it. Even the few straggling stars had vanished, conclusively. I might have been in a shuttered room, without a light; for all that I could see. Only, in the impalpableness of gloom, opposite, burnt that vast, encircling hair of dull fire. Beyond this, there was no ray in all the vastitude of night that surrounded me; save that, far in the north, that soft, mistlike glow still shone.