A Virtue out from Chaos clawed
Mortal vessel turned to God
She from quaking mountains trod
Revolution, flung and flawed

I stood before the purest flame
In different mountains, under blame
Asked why a Queen by Shadow's claim
Should spark in me to call her name?

Trust not the North, railed the fair
Yet in fanged smirk upon my stare
I find what truth there lacks in prayer
In feint and parry, whispered glare

My trusted foe, a whetstone great
For the Dawn I did await
Stood entrusting you to fate
'Wake', I hoped, to the one I hate

Woke you did, ere the rising sun
Haughty vampiress, ne'er undone
Let storms again, let cold blood run
A heartbeat's wardrum last to none.

Penned by my hand on Tisday, the 16th of Slyphian, in the year 11 AC.