THE FIRST STEP Verse 1 The bond goes quiet in the wood, Not gone — just drawn thin. That’s how I know it finally worked, Not the end — the door let in. A sentry crossed when I asked him to, He wore the skin, he held the line. The curse bent just enough to breathe, Just enough to buy me time. ⸻ Pre-Chorus This wasn’t mercy. This was design. ⸻ Chorus One step — that’s all this buys me now, One crack in a wall that won’t come down. A human killed a fae tonight, The rules bent wrong — but bent just right. If I don’t move, it seals again, This chance is ash if I don’t begin. ⸻ Verse 2 There’s no time left to mourn his name, No space to weigh the cost. The curse doesn’t care who volunteered, Only what was lost. She doesn’t matter — not yet, not why, Only what she’s done. Blood crossed a line in winter snow, Now the clock has started to run. ⸻ Pre-Chorus 2 This only works if she hates me first, The curse is clear on that. Fear before trust, distance before love — The wrong order breaks the path. ⸻ Chorus 2 She has to fear me — that’s the rule, Fear moves faster than the truth. She has to hate me long before She ever learns to choose. So I’ll be the monster she expects, I’ll wear the shape she runs from fast. If hatred gets her over the wall, Love can come — if there’s time left at last. ⸻ Bridge I won’t tell her he chose this end. I won’t tell her this was required. I won’t tell her the curse demands She curse my name before it’s tired. Let her believe I’m cruel and cold, Let her sharpen every word. If anger keeps her breathing long enough, Then I’ll carry what’s unheard. ⸻ Final Chorus This isn’t victory — it’s order, Sequence carved in stone. This is moving when the world won’t wait, This is stepping out alone. One step. One chance. One human through the gate. If she lives long enough to hate me, The curse still has time to change its fate. ⸻ Outro I don’t mourn him. I don’t stall. I take the shape she’ll fear most of all. I gather the rage she needs to see, I let the mask decide for me. I tear the door from its frozen frame, Let winter fill the room with flame. And I ask the question the night demands: “Who killed him?” (Hard cut. Silence.)
