Fate has been sealed, for that the curse has been lifted. Only to stain armor in crimson, and faces painted with tears. Never before have I found peace for that my tale is grim, and a hole is left in my stead. A rough hand laid to rest on a gentle face, moonlight to give glow to features I was blind to see. A face I had hope to spare from dread, yet fate deemed her worthy of the mantle, to be marked by my blood. For it was her pale blade that laid in my chest.
© theillusivewriter