Wretched Bonds of the Divine

But worry not, for I will slit

They preach of grace with bloodied hands,

and scorch the earth to suit their plans.

Kneel to them, and you will find

the Light they bear will damn mankind.

But worry not, for I will slit

each feathered throat and let them drip.

Their shining skies will crack and fall,

and I will be the end of all.

—A VOW IN VERSE, BY THE DEMON BARD OF WRATH