The Moon's Promise

Beneath the pale and silent moon,

She walked across the endless white.

Hands unarmed, heart sworn with vows—

Vows heard by none but the sky.

Born of sacred lunar grace,

From a line that shuns the sword.

She prayed, she healed, she lived in peace,

With faith her only word.

Then came the prince, with crimson gaze,

His honeyed voice a veiled snare.

She stood with silence, strong and still,

And left without despair.

I will be the blade in silence,

I will be the light in snow.

I will not forgive the death

That had no right to grow.

And I will be the voice

For those who’ll speak no more.

She climbed to pray, not out of fear,

But at her mother’s gentle plea:

“The goddess waits, don’t make her grieve—

Or doom may darken thee.”

But when she came back down the hill,

No bells, no breath remained.

Her home was ash, the laughter gone—

Only moonlight knew the names.

There within the frozen ground,

A blade like ice and starlight lay.

She took it with a steady hand,

And heard the goddess say:

"Go forth, and do as your heart desires."

I will be the blade in silence,

I will be the light in snow.

I will not forgive the death

That had no right to grow.

And I will be the voice

For those who’ll speak no more.

If you hear steel kiss the snow,

Where no warmth dares to burn,

Know this: she walks beneath the moon—

And Anastasia won’t return.