The azure surface of the glimmering lake.
Reflections from the sun casted to the sword – raised against the sky,
towards the light. Into the eyes that yet not sighted lies.
A sacrifice beyond the human weakness made by the young man still with flaming eyes.
The sun wents dying, the last candle for light.
Two eyes watching the flames whom ablaze in the night.
A silent whispering, echoes grim yet graceful.
The man who will bring the shadows… The Eroican
Borned to please the night, a shadow child. Philosophers burned while sighting the unseen.
Visions of his aura, a dim kingdom given.
The precious sword held by the young hands bleeding.
To sacrifice his blood (the morning of darkness), to see the light (for him it will kneel).
Voices whispering his name, a hymn to the emperor.
The spire, the sword, his wandering for the shadows.
His two eyes sacrificed to replace the light and a human sacrifice to give birth to the eternal night…