Unshed Tears
She is Scathach.
No one can defeat her,
None can withstand her wrath,
Alone, the Dark Elders she must conquer,
Doomed to walk a dark and hopeless path.
She is first and foremost the Warrior Maid,
Leaving her home to protect every human,
And so to the Elders she is a renegade,
Turning her back on her kin,
Destined never to die, never to fade.
She then become the Shadow,
A fleeting glimpse of darkness she would become,
She explored the world, raw and fallow,
Refusing to feel love, remaining cold and numb,
Her heart only a shuddering, distant glow.
They called her the Daemon Slayer,
For killing monsters and their brood,
Great prophecies she would be told by myriad soothsayer,
In endings of great honor and glory they would conclude.
But for Scathach herself, she had not a prayer.
She was dubbed the King Maker,
For crowning great and rueful monarchs,
The care of the Arthurian kings, she was their undertaker,
Preserving the light and fighting the dark,
Yet of many personal sorrows she is the creator.
Of Next Generation she is born,
Born after the Fall of Danu Talis,
Determination she so does proudly adorn,
Fighting and fighting, enduring the infinite malice,
Her life is painted with dark shades of forlorn.
The Clan Vampire is her origin,
She only feels a void of darkness inside,
Her very existence is an inevitable sin,
She must take the emotions so with her they may abide,
And the welcoming rush of feeling does begin.
Unshed tears form the legend, Scathach,
Without love and without a heart,
She defends us from the Dark Elders' wrath,
Her tales and legends would take years to impart,
Yet she walks alone on the dark and foreboding path . . .