The mountain stares down at me like a curious child,
and its footsteps wake the ground beneath my feet.
I am not a threat, so it continues its solemn march.
I ready my blade and the Earth trembles.
"When the world has turned its back on me
will you still save me?" she spoke softly
underneath the sad willow canopy. "Of course."
I replied, and like in a daydream we swore our love.
My horse is cheering me from afar with terrified whinnies
as I make a leap of faith onto the hairy hide of the behemoth.
I thank the winds for being at my back and scramble
across its maddened frame to its head, all my nerves ablaze.
They came to our home in a regiment of five.
They were inquisitors by profession, and had come
for her life, for she was a witch. They unsheathed their
weapons and broke down the door.
The bright cyan glyph atop its scalp shines like a beacon
of life in the dead of night. I raise my sword high
above my head, poised to strike. The mighty beast
foresees its own death, and lets out a pitiable moan.
I could only stand and watch; a sinister blade
was held at a hair's width from my neck.
She was on her knees in tears, and the lead
inquistor whispered a prayer for our souls.
The once living mass of rock and fur now lay dead
before me. Dying of exhaustion, I fall unconscious
to the ground and rest, and the world around me
breathes a sigh of relief and is finally calm.
I took her cold body and fled the world of men,
to the forsaken corner of the world, where
I would sacrifice myself to sin, to return her to life.
If my lover is a witch, I would be her faithful familiar.
I awake again in the temple of the false gods, and they welcome me.
They promised her resurrection, and I still believe them.
The colossi I have slain, the idols' mute wardens look down
upon my broken frame and ask "O warrior, why have you killed us?"