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