Page 79 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

BALLAD OF HERINOR

The skies of men were charred with smoke,

A clash of swords, and the banners broke.

An army stood on death’s last breath,

Their foes a tide of war and death.

Amidst the clash, from the ether’s glow,

A warrior fell on the bloodied snow.

Held fast by a foe, with a blade in his side,

A warrior facing Zotarr’s endless night.

Yet with steel in his grip and death in his gaze,

He sent his enemy back in the god's darkened haze.

The soldiers froze as his blood stained the earth,

Who was this warrior of unmatched worth?

What beast was he, who fought through his pain,

Whose blade was guided by Zotarr’s reign?

From shadow’s veil, the stranger came,

And with his blade, he turned the game.

The tides of war, once dark and grim,

Now swayed in favor at his whim.

Through days of blood and iron rain,

He stood where few could long remain.

’Til foes, once countless, broke and fled,

He chased the stragglers, struck them dead.

He fought like storm through blood and flame,

No rest, no pause, no wound to tame.

He tracked the remnants, far and wide,

And one by one, each foe he died.

Atop the peaks where eagles cry,

The final shade had fled to die.

Through frost and stone the warrior came,

And struck him down through wind and flame.

But in that blow, his lifeblood spilled?—

The foe was gone, the hero stilled.

Then lightning cracked the mountain's face,

As Zotarr reached through time and space.

With burning hands, the god arose,

And took the fallen from the snows.

His sacrifice, in thunder sealed?—

A hero's truth the skies revealed.

Where Herinor vanished through fate’s torn veil,

A tomb now stands to tell his tale.