Beneath the pallid vaults of night, The river winds, a serpent wreathed in hate. Her name, a curse on every tongue, A mirror black, that knows no dawn. Obols on my eyes, and silence in my throat, Charon waits, the ferryman of oaths. The gods avert their hollow gaze, For I would drown in the truth they forbade. I swear by the Styx, by her venom divine, Let my veins run black with her vow. Nine years of exile, nine thousand screams I am reborn in her laurel of grief. Drink from her depths, her crimson now mine. The flesh remembers what the soul forgets. Each drop a dagger drawn from sin, Each oath, shackles that bind. O goddess of spite, flood me in your grace, Wash the gods from my blood. In hatred, I see. Through death, I reign. The Styx runs through me now. I swear by the Styx, by her venom divine, Let my veins run black with her vow. Nine years of exile, nine thousand screams I am reborn in her laurel of grief. I exist between dawn break and twilight My oath endures, even when gods rot. I am the current, the river, the vow. And all shall drown in my name.
