Caught within the storm;
A maelstrom of fire and ash
yet merely known as ‘home’.
Wrapped in sure arms
that hold a mischievous grin,
Protector and herder of the lost,
God of something so pure as Chaos.
If lines in the sand must be drawn,
I stand beside who is both Ice and Fire,
Darkness and Light, Life and Death.
I will turn my back upon those
who hold my blood,
For the people I have chosen will always
be stronger than those forced upon.
“Blood is thicker than water”, they say,
Which is true, and it is also so
much more satisfying to spill.
I hold no ill will to you, you know
who you are; O’ Harbingers of Battle,
But if you call to rally arms,
I yet remain in the ranks of the Shadows.
I have always believed The End to be
a cycle, perhaps metaphorical;
Yet you have called to me,
Told me to abandon who stands at my side
when you yet refused.
My loyalty is stained in my own blood,
I will not hesitate to stain it in yours as well.
Fate be with you, O’ Bringers of Pain,
For Ragnarök is a cycle; a wheel
to spin again and again.
But eventually a spoke breaks
and the wheel crumbles;
So be careful where you stand,
For my line is drawn and my side is chosen
And I will not leave my family,
Blood-bound or for naught.