Smoke billows in the small valley below:
The woods are alight with a blazing fire
As the seeds of vengeance evermore grow;
Nature's destruction doth our deeds require

And so,

Through the black leaves
Does the ashen wind come
On eaves before midnight
Are hopes objects to shun
Near the thick roots' grip
Is the earth succumb to Hell
Before the black dawn
Sounds an ominous knell
Within the wooden deep
Is knowledge withheld
And in this black forest
Is death beheld

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