witherfang10

The Mirror of Fate White is black and black is white As I look upon his face. Two matched blades of purest night, Like a dream of my dark race Dance of blood and sword and will, As I match his blows with mine. Deathly cold and deathly still, Gray reflecting violet eyes. He foresees my every blow, As in circles now we pace. Somehow each opponent knows Only one will leave this place. I can find myself in him As I meet his chilling eyes. His soul is to my own akin, Save that it is made of ice. On details the world’s fate hangs, As we mortals shape our life. Had I trained at Briza’s fangs, I would be this man, this