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A warrior born but monster made, Changes fates of souls enslaved. Twins of sun and moon will rise, When one has lived a thousand lives. A circle of gold shall join two souls, And a debt paid rights wrongs of old. In a holy mountain the earth will heal, Then the dead shall live, and the curse will keel.
The primal need to survive made even the weakest of mice fight with all the fury of a god. When your back was against the wall, you found out what your soul was made of, and I’d learned long ago that mine had been forged in fire and ferocity.
Even the blackest of nights hold a glimmer of starlight.
Our little family was already shadowed by the loss of Mom, and her death had woven threads of pain through all of us, crystalising us as one.
“In your dreams, asshole. You might not have gotten laid in a thousand years, but it will be a thousand more before I’d ever take you up on the offer.” “It wasn’t an offer,” he replied dismissively. “You’d know if it was, and trust me, you would be more than willing.”
“Perhaps you’re the one who needs a good fuck, drakaina hjarta, you harbour a lot of anger in your soul.”
The moon had seen everything the world had endured, rising each night to inspect each minute change.
It was probably pointless considering the vampires were as silent as a deadly fart, but I had to try.
“The fates guided you to my door, drakaina hjarta. I won’t let them call you from me so easily.”
