The wolves howled at the moon

That chilly autumn night

And cold winds whispered through

The scattered leaves

When the first light from

A late, yet crimson dawn,

Shone through the morning mist...

She was dead... and so reborn.

Caught in a web of silver beams

Thrown from an ocean of stars

A sea that from now, always

Shall haunt her existence

She exists only in darkness

She feeds from the vein of

An innocent child

Yet she is strong

Unbound by the chains of

Mortality

Sometimes under

The ocean of stars

She gazes at the black horizon

Wistful thoughts of death

She wishes for sleep

She has no quest

Just an eternal lust for blood

Always walk alone - eternally!

She is the eye of the raven

She is the ear of the wolf

She is mockery itself

Of the holy trinity

She is the pleasure conceived