Under the rain the cold gets deep inside fear is harder than the instinct, dark thoughts invade your mind. The air burns like fire, tendons are quenched as the wind cries deceiving roars calling into despair. The path of thorns closes on you in an endless maze accept your fate, it's the game of Death. Make your best move and seize your luck, next turn is Hers, she will seal your fate. Blood pulse is affected by the pressure, it flows through the veins like fire from Hell. Your heart will break, your mind will die and there is nothing, you can only run, damn the fortune, the risk was too much and so you will die running until the end slashed by the rusty blade not knowing why and for how longer she'll make you last.

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