---

Mustering what strength remains, hoarse from screeching death

Blood stained, filth encrusted, withering

The husk of evil dwindling to a shell of a human

the feeble creature crawls onwards

In the serpent tongue, chanting back mindlessly into the cold air,

The fog of their breath, the whispers taken crawling through her skin

The Secrets of the black art failed to sustain

The powers of the dark lord reduced

The pentagram in her flesh burns cold, with open wounds she curses her undoing,

Steel slicing her hand, draws no blood,

to join the undying in hell for eternity.

Limply swinging limbs, disoriented and mesmerised by the euphoric touch of mortality’s embrace.

The fog of their breath

The whispers taken crawling through her skin

The Secrets of the black art failed to sustain

The pentagram burns in her flesh, cold, with open wounds she curses.