The Necromancer IV
A storm floods a sacred temple,
hatred runs along the waves.
Choking on dirt and dread,
with rotten thoughts filling his head.
A distaste for what makes people human,
finding comfort in cold corners.
With every corpse, his soul bled,
warrior of light, now painted red.
As the winter faded into black,
he traded light for a twisted smile.
The purest soul was led astray,
drawing out darkness
during the day.
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