Feverish dreams
always burning from within
under the Mark

They flash in a confusing haze of sound
of picture
of life
of death

"It burns," he croaks to them,
his allies
his friends
"He comes," they whisper back,
afraid of what one more battle might take.

In his chest,
beats a lion's heart.
Now sent to sacrifice
to the opposing serpent.

He masters Death
and conquers his foe's "flight"

The castle lays in pieces behind,
still majestic and awe-some.

The purple banner flies,
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."