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There is told a tale

Of Days of Old

Of a Demon Queen who bled

From a Heart of Gold

For a Man but Mortal

A man of the Cross

Though her kin had been exiled

Because Man was now lost

When so much dismay

now lay 'pon Mans head

Perhaps 'twas pity, yes pity 'tis said

For how she viewed with eyes

of favour upon her foe

could be but grasped by none

And so she did glance through

the Dark twigs of her wooden cell

'pon the meadows outside

and a man in Mans Hell

For days at an end

for months and for years

she did spy at this man

crying, shedding his tears

...And she invited him in

She had every reason as good

as any of the Gods to hate Man

But to his manlike charms

she had already succumbed

But a man cannot live

where the Old Gods now reigned

And a Queen of the old ways

as a deity remains in the dark woods

as prisoner for the sake of Mans faith

She knew forgiveness would not come

should she invite him again

Still a goddess is a goddess

and the craft that she wields

can even make mortal an exiled deity

And though shunned by her own kin

she truly would be

she would also be gifted

with the blessing to be free

And yes the goddess did leave them woods

to never again return

For the curse of a mortal life

is that death one day is earned

But only after her sister had stolen by right

the three bloodred tears

she had shed that same night

The tears held that glimmering red immortal life.

Like bottled and capped

in three crystallike vials

And the craft how to cast

these forbidden six spells

by her sister - the other Queen

was stolen as well