The Faith Chronicle: The Deadly Seven

Shadows curled in cornersangel (2)
Soft whimpers and curled toes
Shying from the illumination of
Your soldiers, clad in armour shaped
By the gods, the last of their kind
Desperate to survive, dragging aching
Bones and battered limbs, hidden among
The deepest recesses of the dark, hounds

Barking in the wake of their stride, these
Being of purity and light scorching the
Earth, molten waves of pain, the end of
This game, pawns taken from board and
Laid down on reality, sparks rain from the
Skies and fireflies show the way, hacking
Down the essence of time, prayers fall
On empty ears, those who listen too full of

Fear to reply, vigils on every street corner
Enticing the creatures from the hiding places,
Ending their race one and for all, tall silhouettes
Striking fear in the hearts of fear itself, a paradox
Melting in the heat of the hunt, with nowhere to
Run stumbling they seek confession, showering
Themselves in holy blessing burning on their skin,
Determined not to let them win, but their very

Existence emanates sin, according to scripture
Those who live must be wiped clean, purity
Wrapping around their souls, if there is no anchor
There is no shore of penitence, finally they move
To end this, swords in hands, ridding this land of
The seven brothers, so no one else would ever suffer

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