(Ohhh—mmm—ahhh…) Steel wails as dusk’s curtain falls, umbra swirls where the crows take flight. A hand unseen guides blade and breath, spinning fate in chords of death. With every step, the rhythm roils, the battle shifts as she commands. Burn, spurn, the cycle sways, Blood and thunder mark the way. Who will stand, who will break, when the storm begins to wake? Laughter spills like cracking thunder, her voice a shiver, a sharp-edged rasp. The flux of war wends where she sings, chaos spreading from her wings. Footsteps falter, armor buckles, as fear and frenzy bind the fray. Burn, spurn, the cycle sways, Blood and thunder mark the way. Who will stand, who will break, when the storm begins to wake? Drums that shudder, bones that shake, whispers coil and sinews break. One by one, their minds collapse, vision fades, their will unravels. Burn, spurn, the cycle sways, Blood and thunder mark the way. Who will stand, who will break, when the storm begins to wake? (Ohhh… their hands… their eyes… turning still…)
