I thought I have felt the edge of Death's Blade
My bones were brutally broken and shattered. Just like the will to keep standing.
My muscles ache of the arrows and spears in the back. These were of the traitors whom once were trusted.
Blood runs down every face.
Sitting in devastation, with no other survivors.
The war is lost.
The will to rise is questioning within itself.
You ask a simple question: How can I live with this pain and grief? And if so, what now?
The kingdom has fallen.
Even with great spirits of hope, our war was lost.
Unable to move, yet with the power to breathe.
My spirit is tainted. My temple runs in blood and ruins.
Unlike the bretheren that began to bond back to nature, I was unable to.
Wounded, but yet still alive.
Aquiring the spirit to lift yourself, remove the arrows from your back, and walk through the pain is never an easy thing to do.
Especially with sorrow that outweighs your thrist for the most forsaken hatred of all: Vengence.
But in this viol