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of seraphim and carnivores
— from sunset ‘til the dawn’s fog appears, Hel’s lost coven was the earthen fiends,
the birds and beasts that had longed to be feared by the drunken hunters who would walk through the trees.
— it was archaic and dark magic, a ballad unknown to those who wouldn’t believe
in the parts of life strongly adhered to, “never roam far ‘til the sun rose and the curse released.”
— to set the scene, these were medieval times, and god-loving beggars and kings alike
felt odd, shoving their brothers aside for a seat by the fire in the middle of night.
— and those that shovelled clod, huffing, then thrust the rods of spears into a ring of pikes
would strive to set the snares that correctly entwined the defensive lines with strings and spikes.
— but some folk chose to fight, for the flock of secular servants standing by sycamore pews
would listen with burdened hearts as the sermon starts with sickening news —
another two dead, heads cleft from necks and bodies wickedly hewed —
and the regular worship quickly drew to a close… leaving only those fervent-hearted and few.
and I’ll be honest, I was starting to lose interest ‘til the blind girl burst through the door.
—
”I am Sera”, said she, this thinly veiled harbinger of times worse than before.
—
”save my children; they’ve been taken below” … she fell and grovelled and cursed on the floor.
those un-heavenly gathered clamoured for weapons, from axes to swords, and thirsted for war.
we left in the night with what we had worn that day and a craving that chewed at our core —
a hunger that mourned when it could not feed yet carried our feet through the moores —
and within four hours, we found them — a sacrifice — the blood in our ears roared
and forced us forward, swords to foe and friendly morsels indiscernible in the gore…
until I wiped the feast from my face, had I not realized what was done,
so afraid of the night’s beasts, we had slain our own cubs.
it was then that I knew: it was us.