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A peice of night
Moves into my sight.
Sketches a mocking salute
With a blood red blade
"you have no chance"
He challanges


My reply
A strike of flame
Magick born
Towards his heart
It strikes his shield
and shatters
His mocking laugh
Rips the night silance.

I lunge towards him
Black sword
Streaks for his heart
He blocks
And I know that I'm in trouble
He's better then me
Stronger then me
Faster then me.

A mental cry for help
A scream for the other ten.
I'm blocked
He has me
Where he wants me.

A few moments later
It is over.
He has the sword,
The sword with the soul.
He touches it,
It blasts him,
And dissapears.
My spirit is scattered to the wind.