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With no torch to light the way, my steps are slow and silent

Ever cautious is the hunted, in the domain of shadows

Gripping my guide’s wrist, I feel the wind begin to grow

Faint at first, hastening into a bellowing gust

Bowing every tree to its will

Distraught, I stagger to my feet, nearly overcome from the winds

My guide looks to me with knowing eyes, telling of the fate of the land

The land of an earthen tomb, where we must venture

Through the plains of the soaring dagger

My pulse quickens, as our pace hastens towards the mountains

Still miles beyond, with the grave of the dismembered stretching indefinitely

The shrieks in the field ever silenced by the gale,

Their hopes banished, their bodies motionless.

Spirit flowing from the egress of their eyes, leaving the shell to decompose

The end is never within reach, with every step met by dread

Where each stride evades their bones, snarling roots snare and moan

To immobilize the prey for the fleeting knife to have its way

May my rest be not met within this forsaken place of misery

Breathless and delirious, I collapse

Lamenting the fate of his inevitable wickedness

Still I see his face, once virtuous and pure

Now slain by the father