The heart is heavy with the burden of a demon sword
Though the young face is as light as the weight of the shadow held by the gloved hand
Blood is mere ink
As history is broken, the story forgotten and replaced by new
Green eyes scour their work
As the world crumbles around them
"Loki! Stop admiring your own work! We must escape!"
A cold heart is burning as the sweet pain called 'memory' takes the form of a girl in green
A sweet smile and a cooling cloth to take the pain away
As the Serpent is hit
The Thunderer has no such sweet thing
Only 9 steps before stone-cold death
7… 8… 9…
The Trickster cries the tears
Of winners defeat