My words are like a reckoning, neverending sorrow and torment that shall light the fires of the pyres my enemies shall rest upon. The time of soft words and diplomacy has passed and now I speak words as strong as my blood. That which flows through my veins like molten silver, a declaration of enduring strength and the lack of sanity that has driven me this far. There is no time for the discussions of endless walks on empty roads for I will march in the streets, the world set afire as my blood burns dry. A world that may never end, the rain will come until the end of days drips wetly with the blood of kings. Yet I stand alone and unafraid. That which has held me captive in torturous bonds no longer will be held accountable for my will and desire. The time is near. I've been tormented and dragged across the harsh ground by wild horses, stormy eyes inevitably on the sky as my battered form falls. I will not relent. I will not survive the trials that come before me without the blood of my blood, oathsworn warriors that so help me god will never fail to protect that which is mine - my own. There is no mind left, no heart. Only the dismal glare of the blade and the loss of sanity that this pain has left me with.