The visions of bodied bathed in blood and countless lives fleeting the bodies of many once again begin to fade. My hands, still sore from grasping the shadowed blade that cut down many before me – continue to shake as they desperately hold back every ounce of rage, every ounce of desire that is left within me.  From the inside out, I know that this vessel is no where near what it once was – for it was once built upon the foundation of false light, light that now begun to be erased, removed from this line entirely, even by my own hand.  Lords of shadows that once beckoned from moon beans above have long since departed, for their role in all of this is seemingly done as they have carried out their course – and it is now I, who must tend to the raging and hungering shadows that still remain, the shadows that will surely bring about the end to the light entirely.

The Lords that had once held will over these darkened forces have strayed me far from the warpath that I was once as, for they know of the fleeting agreement that shall soon expire, and they know of what awaits during the final moving moments of the sands of time. The path that I drift onto now within this seemingly vast and infinite scape is one that holds the very essence of the hollows of this human experience. It is all encompassing darkness and despair, trails that I once knew to be true and ever-existing, like a ever-knowing prophecy, but had long since fought for an essence of false light.

I am no longer a warrior of shadows, for no longer do I fight for this force. Nor am I wanderer, for I know where this final path leads. In these moments I am a bringer of shadows, for they cling to me now as if they are my own – they too seek the only road that remains, and the only road I’ve ever known. For in these moments there is no fight left to fight, to war left to wage; yes, I can feel it’s arrival like a universal shift – the end.