She was raised by her fists,
her birthright written in blood,
her thoughts surpressed,
her essence covered in mud.
While thought was praised
it was all she could use,
her fists brittle and weak,
her soul she did abuse.

A sect of light found her,
gave her power to shine,
but hope was crushed faster
than grapes into wine.
For she was a taint,
a sinner a curse,
and should she have remained,
all would have been worse.

She placed a note by the fire,
for all to read,
And walked out of the room,
chanting the creed.
"Do not try to seek me,
I am long gone,
I must atone for the sorrow
that I brought upon.

A warrior of light,
but a seed was planted,
the darkness now grows,
I take it forgranted.
My death would be welcome,
but even the heavens do spurn,
I forsake my life,
and all I can learn.

Shed not one tear for me
your eyes must remain dry,
this is how it should be,
this is my last goodbye."
Not a one understood,
the life she did part,
Not a work was said
about the sinner's black heart.

For the only real taint
was her own seed of doubt,
and the sudden departure,
nobody truly knew about.
Months turned into years
and not a word was heard,
the void was soon filled,
and the ordeal seemed absurd.

Till one day one saw her,
at the edge of a cliff,
his mind became restless
her limbs became stiff.
"Why did you leave,
you had no reason to go,
your departure was sombre,
the healing quite slow?"

"A warrior I am not,
All I do now is write,
I have no strength to move,
I have no skills to fight.
The darkness grew in me,
my hate flowed through,
I was lost and confused,
It's what I needed to do."

"Darkness is in all,
not one person can flee,
there is no way around,
you will never be free."
"I only wish to write,"
"Warriors fight in thought,
wisdom is power,
but fear makes it naught."

Hand in hand,
blood by flesh,
together we'll walk,
together we'll mesh.
For it is fear that destroys us,
but bonds that repair,
even with darkness,
light always is there.


Penned by my hand on the 10th of Daedalan, in the year 577 AF.