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(Matthias Steele)

The noonday's sun powers down--blisters gleam

Smoke from the ashes leaves a powerful stench

Last one left standing, intact, not a scratch

The iron-handed sentinel surveys the battle creek

Twisted masses of masculine flesh

Lie strewn about the ground

The air was not quick to dissolve

Looming ominous and heavy, gravity's slow to resolve

Lapsing back in his mind to when he was a child—a son of a king

"Someday my son, this will all be yours"

In black suits of armor and lance in my hands

They ravaged the commoner and took hold all the land

But yes, from the start, feel my blade icy cold

The kingdom is mine but feel the grip,

	Death's choke hold

Brushing these thoughts far away from his brain

He gathers himself and his mind clears again

Searching the fields beyond the creek of Stygian

Must find the ones who'll stand in the way

The name of Matthias rings as clear as a bell

It was to the guillotine, then sent straight to hell

But to their surprise, his corpse cannot be found

Where art thou, keeper of tokens galore?

There, in the distance staring, it cuts like a knife

Matthias on horseback within a radius of light

With crystals in hand into forests so black

Riding steadfast, headlong, not looking back