Memento Mori

Blood bond legacy:

Thinking, reminiscing in blissful gesture a young devil. Walking towards, repeating his memories over and over.

And as blissfully as walked their bloomed flowers of blood.

And as they bloomed from his blood, blood louts they were.

And as the first step was taken, one sixth of the petal fall, second and it was two half and for the final there were none and there left the seeds ready to sprout, as they fall on the ground.

Finally, the young devil looked up brandishing his left eye, an inversion of his right perfectly black yet representing the moon as the iris was white.

And behold he let his wings as they faded in, faded not but bones that were his wings.

Perhaps that was the end and sprouted the seeds.

How seedlings they were but was it a notion of calmness before a great calamity.

And certainly it, as the seedlings grew took a shape, shapes of heroes of the past, but heroes not from the world known.

His companions, thee, bowed as their comrade reached a height of uncertainty, caring not if strike of their enemies connecting.

Perhaps it was not a concern as the enemies fell not from poison neither from wounds but of fear.

As no one scream but many to cry, collapse in despair, loosing hopes as they tremble in fear.

As the young devil approach in blissful mind enemies defile as they die only from only fear.

Was it the end, asked the maiden dressed in gold and silver, not armor but a blessing of the divine.

But fear started seeping into her mind also in heart.

Perhaps there was none, no lord to save thy believers.

But in the end, as were sand in the air cracked a path in the thick air.

As the sign of a lord to enter was clear, the young devil bowed.

Expecting nothing but more of the fear.