God of Death

Ignominia simul antequam moriamur.

As I walk among the lifeless, I search.

I’ve come across so many. Not one has been as wretched as I, but I grieve for my people nonetheless.

My poor people, distressed.

Hungry.

Never had I considered myself a warrior until I witnessed my brothers and sisters struggle against the tempest for a spark to light the rebellion.

Now, we march, float through the darkness, and humble the Gods.

Against the horde; against the shaman and witch doctor.

The path decays in our wake, for there is no room for regret or imperfection beyond the flesh.

All succeed or fall together.

Thrust by the trauma in our bones, the wrath of God cannot fell us.

We are unified.

Death razed the battlefield in guile and jest. I hope you drank your fill of women and wine.

Yes, I have been searching. Watch as we set off together.

It has to be here.

I’ll brace; I’ll prepare and hope.

I’ll train; I’ll maintain and grope my fate with my decrepit being.

I come from beneath the soil.

Lower than the very bottom.

The passive absence of life has come for me.