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Description
PROLOGUE:
For years this world we call home, took for granted what we should have been valued from the start of time. Everyone so blind to the chaos they so unknowingly create, so high do they think themselves, angry at what they cause. They blame this so called misfortune on the weak, but our label betrays us, for weak we are not. In the end we shall rise, with the seer at hand, and the vision of it all shall be of the end itself.
My eyes shall be to the Lord, “My Leise!” I hail three times to thee through the blackened night,  as loyal my hands hold high your banner. Soaked in blood it wavers. Placed upon this brand is a rose of blackest coal, my hands holds tight the thorny stem, my blood lets its scent be passed along to let its’ presence be known. This banner our sign of eternal reign.
“ They shall fall, my king, lord, and leise.” I hail again. You hear my praising call and send a messenger, a child, one of your past. What purpose does he serve? He must deliver, he must prevail with a seer and thou lords queen of destruction. Thee worthy chosen as his antithesis, must be willing, willing to share thy blood. This blood must be from thou own veins, pure mustn’t it be, for what queen of hell has purest blood?
Thee must even be able to let life leave them. Your life will be his weapon, you must be able to die to keep him high in the eyes of the fallen gods. For they are the only way for him to rise high enough to devastate the holy angels of god. These tainted gods will make the throne, this throne will be of the decay and taint of this world, and  he shall sit upon it holding the last of the worlds hope.
This messenger is my guardian, bloody, silent, but still he finds his way to speak to me. He guides me to my awaiting lord, for my position awaits at his right hand, as the seer, the one to see the on coming end of this corrupted world. For so, I walk on, with the words of my deadly servant in my mind. “He awaits, bring your visions, be his eyes.” But truly his voice is mute, I only receive this lowly thought message by reading his dying lips. This child is my destiny, my guardian, and my message. I must give praise to the one who has sent him, but I have yet to see your face, will I be blessed with the sight of  his glorious face. Will I be able to touch his bloodied lips, with these silent lips of mine.

Description
PROLOGUE:
For years this world we call home, took for granted what we should have been valued from the start of time. Everyone so blind to the chaos they so unknowingly create, so high do they think themselves, angry at what they cause. They blame this so called misfortune on the weak, but our label betrays us, for weak we are not. In the end we shall rise, with the seer at hand, and the vision of it all shall be of the end itself.
My eyes shall be to the Lord, “My Leise!” I hail three times to thee through the blackened night,  as loyal my hands hold high your banner. Soaked in blood it wavers. Placed upon this brand is a rose of blackest coal, my hands holds tight the thorny stem, my blood lets its scent be passed along to let its’ presence be known. This banner our sign of eternal reign.
“ They shall fall, my king, lord, and leise.” I hail again. You hear my praising call and send a messenger, a child, one of your past. What purpose does he serve? He must deliver, he must prevail with a seer and thou lords queen of destruction. Thee worthy chosen as his antithesis, must be willing, willing to share thy blood. This blood must be from thou own veins, pure mustn’t it be, for what queen of hell has purest blood?
Thee must even be able to let life leave them. Your life will be his weapon, you must be able to die to keep him high in the eyes of the fallen gods. For they are the only way for him to rise high enough to devastate the holy angels of god. These tainted gods will make the throne, this throne will be of the decay and taint of this world, and  he shall sit upon it holding the last of the worlds hope.
This messenger is my guardian, bloody, silent, but still he finds his way to speak to me. He guides me to my awaiting lord, for my position awaits at his right hand, as the seer, the one to see the on coming end of this corrupted world. For so, I walk on, with the words of my deadly servant in my mind. “He awaits, bring your visions, be his eyes.” But truly his voice is mute, I only receive this lowly thought message by reading his dying lips. This child is my destiny, my guardian, and my message. I must give praise to the one who has sent him, but I have yet to see your face, will I be blessed with the sight of  his glorious face. Will I be able to touch his bloodied lips, with these silent lips of mine.