Soft, with a hint of blood
Carried to my tongue.
She is near me,
The black robe comforting and inviting
As She draws closer to me.
She knows I will not refuse Her -
Her words speak across
The ice and stones that I see before me.
She stands next to me, holding Her staff, gnarled
And black, as we watch the battle begin.
“You see,” She whispers,
The blood trickling under my skin and tongue,
They are ready to die. They prepare.”
My hands, cold and numb, hide within my robe.
She continues to whisper words,
Songs, dirges, knowing of those
Who shall die in Her name today.
I feel the dirty cold air kiss my ears;
The ravens from above
Give me pause to see my “eyes”.
Towards the battle.
Towards the blood, red and freely given.
They scream Her name.
Her name, this honour.
They have seen the ravens and understood.
“Of Life, there is always Death.
Of giving, there is taking away.
You are Mine; you shall not be limited.”
The blood, thick and red,
Pulses deeper within me.
Fingers from the past reach towards me -
My own powers increasing.
I can hear Her smile -
Death, I am greater yet follow it so.
The trees stand as silent witnesses to the battle.
Man against man.
Shield against shield.
Human against Fae.
They all bleed.
They bleed for Her.
I hear the words spoken, yell, scream -
She comes before all.
She knows I will not turn away from Her.
I am Her maiden.
I lick my black lips,
Seeking moisture from within.
The blood is not enough.
I close my eyes. Hear the battle,
Yet still still feel Her coldness – my home.
– Give me your strength – I tell Her.
Nothing, then a soft laugh.
“You said yes to Me.”
I bow and feel the blood, now black and coming.
The wings, ebon, float towards me.
An offering to keep me forever there.
Of Death, She holds my hand.
Of the Raven, She kisses me.
Of the Fae, She comes before us all.