It’s raining outside.
Hunting prey in the dead of night,
Before him, victim’s run in fright,
The wielder of the sacred light.
It’s raining outside.
Blessed sword of silver made,
Banished beasts upon its blade,
Its true power asleep has laid.
It’s raining outside.
We, consistent with our great demands,
Send him deep to forbidden lands,
The power soon within his hands.
It’s raining outside.
The power now with him abides,
And he is cursed within our eyes,
The power destroys him from inside.
It’s raining outside.
Warrior fallen to death’s cold frost,
In the sea a tempest tossed,
The rains will rage for a hero lost.
It’s raining outside, and so it will,
For the one chosen by the light has died.
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An idea I came up with at camp. The rest of the story will be put in the Fantasy Fiction Section. Please read it! "Chapter One: The Battle" coming soon!
