Your wings were broken
Because you dared to grow them.
You were snatched from your path,
Thrown into the Abyss,
Tangled in an endless cycle
Of painful deaths and resurrections.
Your face was burned,
Your soul was scorched,
Your life faded.
Everything you had so fervently revered
Turned out to be a lie, an abomination.
You lost everything…
Your past, your innocence, your idealism…
Broken dreams, nothing more…
A silent ruin, swept by cold winds.
Raziel, your destiny is all you have left,
But before you pursue it,
Let me tell you this…
We are not that different.
We are both ragged shadows,
Dwelling on darkened worlds,
Disfigured for eternity,
Enduring the pain of betrayal.
The Reaver you carry,
Your parasitic counterpart,
May well be your only company
In your lonely and hidden path.
We are very much alike,
Heir of the Ancients…
We are both dead,
In different ways,
Which are equally painful.
We both try to know ourselves,
Even if it may destroy us…
Know this, Reaver of Souls,
Just as your body was scorched,
So was my tormented soul.
But unlike you, I find myself
Devoid of purpose and future,
Alone and empty.