Knavess of Throes

Indeed, I can still hear her words; her truth seeking to end our meeting final. Yet as i knew she was coming the scenes refused to fade. The oeuvres which all had come to pass without us knowing. I remember the ways the ivory bones of the blackguard were dusted in the soft hush of ruin; untouched and useless in The wake of the decimation. And the way the sagging pavestones sodden by Avrohd's tears mirrored the heavens of Liva which held their blush of crimson, forever shifting as the clouds bled, beautiful in the way only a dying thing could be. The echos of my mind were like the Sirens who cried in throes as the eteneral embers of the nights flickered and fell, yet only the moon hung still above it all, it's iris wide, its crown of fire unblinking. The Knavess stood crowned, yet none can rouse the dead of which the daidem was torn. And before me breathed out a wind that pierced the iron veil of my mind and shattered it like fine crystal. The words I had always known and but never dared to understand "And at what point will you realise; I made you to die" And I fell.