Fang to Scythe!

[I] The Moon no longer guides my breath, Now I kneel to hands of death. (Hallow!) Silver scars and shattered bone, I crossed the dark… I stand alone. If there’s a god beyond the veil, Judge my howl, or let me fail—From fang to scythe, I take this vow, I reap the souls that hunt me now… (Shrine!) [Quote: spoken in prayer] “Min Glas, Loup et’ Rhaus, Memento Mori”… (Mot!)

[1] I remember nights where the forest would call,

Claws in the dirt, I was king of it all. Blood in my teeth, but a code in my chest, Beast on the outside, but human at rest. Pack at my side, we would run through the pines, Howlin’ at fate like we’re challengin’ time. Every full moon, I would lose and regain, Caught in the cycle of fury and pain. Hunters would chase, but they feared what I’d be,

A myth in the dark they could never quite see! (Mot!)

[C] I was the beast beneath the moonlight glow, Now I walk where the dead men go. No pulse, no pack, no heart to keep, I harvest lives, I do not sleep. From hunter’s curse to Harvester’s role, Trading flesh to claim the soul—I was alive, now I’m a black monk at the end, The last cold face you’ll ever befriend. (Thanatos!)

[2] Could’ve been silver through heart or through spine, A hunter’s last shot endin’ my time. Maybe betrayal—my own kind’s bite, Alpha dethroned in a savage fight. Could’ve been fire, trapped in a blaze, Burnin’ alive in a cage of flames. Or maybe I begged for the curse to be gone,And death was the answer I leaned upon. No matter the end, no matter the cause, I woke in the dark… under -different -laws!

[C] I was the beast beneath the moonlight glow, Now I walk where the dead men go. No pulse, no pack, no heart to keep, I harvest lives, I do not sleep. From hunter’s curse to Harvester’s role, Trading flesh to claim the soul—I was alive, now I’m a black monk at the end, The last cold face you’ll ever befriend. (Thanatos!)

[B] I stand where the blackened waters flow, Where lost souls drift and never go. Coins on their eyes, they beg and plead, But mercy ain’t part of what I need. The river whispers every sin, Dragging the damned and the broken in. No turning back once you cross that line, “The ferryman waits… and (Hallowed.) -the dead -belong -on -one -side!”

[3] No fur, no fangs, just silence and cold, A cloak made of shadows, a pale rider at the fold. Scythe in my hand where my claws used to be, Now I don’t hunt… they deliver unto to me. No heartbeat thunderin’, no wild control, Just countin’ the seconds of every lost soul. I don’t feel hunger, I don’t feel rage, Just endless work on an infinite stage. But deep in the void, I still hear the sound… That howl of the wind that won’t be drowned. (Azrael!)

[O] They say we were once what we became,

Men with a past, now stripped of name. No rest. (no peace!) No final breaths release,Just servants bound to endless death. (Grim!) So fear the dark when the air turns still, When time itself begins to chill…If you see my cloak, don’t try & fight—I was a wolf… now, I’m the night!