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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.
A scream built in my chest as I fell through the air, only remaining trapped there through years of instinct, knowing that screams only ever summoned monsters.
Fantasy was my favourite way to escape this world, but life always dragged me back kicking and screaming.
“I love you both,” he breathed. “You are the most beautiful creations of my life, and I would not have chosen to spend my days anywhere but here at your sides.”
“The fates guided you to my door, drakaina hjarta. I won’t let them call you from me so easily.”
