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The words echo false in hallowed halls
Sound from the sacred walls
Painstakingly carved with holy runes of power
To protect them in this dark and solemn hour,
Of treachery and deceit,
Their powers they hope will save them from utter defeat
A blazing sigil here, a resounding word of power there
An acrid smoke hangs in the air.
Mistrust breeds deep in the hearts of these men
Screams of terror echo down the halls now and then
The fear of a traitor amongst their holy order
Fear of betrayal and the line between balance and chaos on which they border
Mad laughter slinks and slides through the tower of stone
Chilling all, deep into the marrow of their bone
The shrieks of the damned and the cries of the saved
Intermingle with the moans of those who lie beyond the grave
The bloodstained halls,
The gore covered walls,
All dries into a viscous paint of human fluids.
As the walls crumble down around them all
Unseeing, unknowing, not caring at all
God, chuckles at their arrogant, blind, piousness
And as the dust settles...
The ghostly dust of their passing traces everything.
-Jason Straub
Return to the Shadows
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