Chosen Undead

Endless steps upon the ashen path, Each footfall echoes in the aftermath. A world of shadows, fire long grown cold, Yet onward you walk, alone but bold. You rise from death, though hollowed inside, A soul once bright now seeks to hide. The weight of curses, the loss of light, Yet still you press on through the endless night. Memories fade, like whispers in the air, Of who you were, or why you care. But something deeper, a force untold, Drives you forward, though your heart grows cold. Is it hope or simply defiance? To face the void in grim reliance? No comfort comes, no peace you find, Yet still you move, though nearly blind. The fire dims, the world decays, But the Chosen Undead, through it stays. For even when hollow, with nothing left to feel, It’s not in retreat, but in silence, you heal. So march ahead, though the path is unclear, What keeps you going is more than fear. A silent purpose, a forgotten quest, You fight on still, though denied your rest.