as I always presumed in reality hell is a cold place
a forlorn precipice, ever shifting, a burial ground
the tunnels spreading endlessly
and I see all these ghostly apparitions
of past companions
distorted
unreal
mask-like
condemned
disintegrating
the only guidance I have is the bearer of the sigil
a kindred spirit – I would have been lost a long time ago without him
he shares the weight of my descension
a weight that’s resting heavy on my shoulders
as long as he is wandering beside me
we will never fade completely
and there is still hope that we can leave this place
this god forsaken underworld
and find a place for us beneath the planes
leave me in this shadowland
this is where I belong
where I’ll rest my bones