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Looking through your glassy gaze,

What do you see?

What do you feel?

A dream of which

Her terror scars-

Death strikes

With Her fleeting might.

Veiled in sin,

And clothed with blood,

Death speaks

Pointing at you

With Her skeletal finger.

She rasps the words

Of Ancient Sorcery

The pure-white aura

Seeps through your lips,

And then Death finishes

Her Ancient works.

Shuddering violently,

Screaming in terror-

You go through the torture

That Death has cursed.

With a final jolt,

And a scream so piercing-

You lay there,

Looking through your glassy gaze.

What do you see?

What do you feel?

Your blood has frozen,

And your heart has stopped;

But with a sudden movement,

You stand.

Death has cursed you

With Her effortless words.

Her kiss does pass,

But Her curse bends fate.

For you, once unconscious,

Are now cursed of the Ancient-

A dead immortal,

YOU ARE THE CHOSEN.