i'm back here, really again, how could this be, i feel my face and it stays, then i must stay here, the stones uneven as if i were a thing on an old brick road, cubes rounded, no jagged edges, i'm remembering that last time i told you this, between being poisoned by a chimera demon and the nightmare of losing myself to aspell its all one again i cannot tell this, paths for roads the shadows from atop the staggering no amaze, seer, tell me of this place, we are naught and they are neither true, then I am here again, this city of stone endless between green mountains, all empthy and the like, uncertain of dark tunnels behind you that you are lost in the memories of the people consumed by the ravaging things that feast on moral weakness and political lies that pin slaves to chains for the feeding, waiting for commas, each small home empty and wooden rafters in case that ceilings decayed would not, ruiner, deceiver, back into my city, and i hope that there are none here, i will not stray into the mountains until i find my wits, and with them where there was a place for tools, and there are rusted hatchets and their handles dust, spears brittle, some placestses too large, some too small, an armory with no sheilds, this is not hell, this place is death, there could be two things to choose in the palce beyond, and away from here, the monster speaks in thought and promises death in the madness, soured by the sadness without form, and the ghost awakens, i choose belief, i xchoose to have this bucket of fear planks for sides unworthy soon the dawn is early and i decide on shoes, so this is hell, and the ghost promises me that this place is a sea of fortune, i wake to the sunrise on the brick tops, the ghost promises me that this is not hell, but though alas is a time that I forsaken all wrought develish and stretching wandering and guessing as many are to do, those are trees and thus there will be rains, and in this dry stone garden of dead jiants to lay for funerals and dirges the midgards we, the stone explains the lack of vegetation, neighther here nor now, but there in the distane, i would find a sheild, a sword, and shoe myself before what happens to these former homes to them find water I, that i not find them tainted by a mad jiant's blood and shake and fight and claw and clasp, , and at the sunset i would see the land where the daylight hides beneath, for there i see a river of night and darkness and obscurity, the least, but just before the dusk the arching sun shows a glimmer in the opposite forest and I see the stream of my dreams of diamonds and water pleasing trees and summer night's season, time breaks for me beneath the starts and as the red sunset snuffs and smoulders as the sureity of truer truest madness sets beside me, approaches the ghost and tells me how clean the river, it must be my labido or do I think for the jaundice skin i could see starlight pass thru him and thru his eyes not, dark hair and scarred hands and i could not tell why such that his limbs oh why were to have so many markings like the trapse of whips of grassland had he walked on palms for lengths of a plain, i am the mask of the badland you have stumbled on my game, and I take my torch of fire of kindling and wave it at his frame, for he is almost missing, for he echoes at the shame, i am asked to kill the fire dare i for heavens not, and put the flames between us sure i shant were dead and caught, were you missing are you lost, tell it me, I say were I listing you are not, it opens arms to speak, these are my stones and are my prison underlying, this is your tomb and time for dying screaming thru the rage and broken cough, my cape i had sat i put to the fire and he laughts like growl and rot, but i lift it fiery curtain for first offence and now i'm off, i profane and run for pleaseure for its fine to flee to save myself, there are no traps and i run until in the distance he awaits the ghost in the fog on the clear night, and i run again to find the ghgh ground and i run and to the tops, the sun had set over the sea had i not seen it were i already in hell, or worse one worse than i could imagine and farther vast than i'd wished or sought, , i feel the cold of death and run, a game almost an hour my feeling of time in exhaust of fear, i punch a brick un savorily i decry and make the question, why am i not dying, the ghost tells me to my ear, for i must kill you to bring back the sun, i swing andstrike himand his chest is deep resounding hollow, buckeled armor at the chest, it is alive a new fact, my new spirit, my agile treatment, hope and option a weapon null to find an old door with hinges for my fists, splinters for knives to what be ghost eyes, and weapons three, a cloth i wrap a charileg to my hand and and the seat a sheild, i take to the rooftops and hunt in the moonlight, i find the ghost syphoning the moisture from pure stone as if it were steam of a wellspring, as i approach to leap and dagger it tosses the stone against the wall as if stone, and then me, but not before i peirce it in the collar, i might need to take his wound and i fight, the colorless stones match the beams in the night, the moon maeks the ground around me glitter, i am dissy, i hav efound where all the swords and sheilds, and knives had gone, so i drive a dirk into my enemy, , is the glittering the river or the sea, and i am thrown, he falls to knee and i strike him again, I approach about to kill the ghost knight and am thrown again, i feel the sun on my face, i remember my own workds, my thoughts mix and i am remembering all my thougts from the morning as if i'd been traveling with, myself, i look on the ghost, it speaks to me in darkwords, i canot understand, the buckling armor of its vest begin to unfoldand thru the knives crawls to me, and opens his arms again and I am dizzy, i cannot see straight if i am seeing four arms, and begins lifting himself from faceing a pool of blades, and i cannot focus i am stilted and jitterly, perhaps even faltering, it opens its arms and this to say are six, and each hand takes a dagger silver and sharpened in precious time,, i lean on the wall my hand of blood smears with dust as he crawls thru knives, dragging himself forward hammering picks like talons of an awesome snake, but lifting himself upward, not ghost but six arms of angered demon and i am bloody on the run, angry and cursing bloody violent rage of manacign rage, and i'm fading fast, i fall into a hallway, my blood on the ground i try to run, my hands on the stone i think of only mosoleums and unable to flee i double back, a hand ful of knives and my own palms are still belding, the knife that he throws to me i did not see leave his hands, i turn and watch the blade go by my eye, i have no concept of time as i watch it pass, fear at its pinnacle stops time, the enscription on the blade say shadow hunter, the demon of many arms laughts as if knowing, and surprises me, that blade belonged to one more skilled than you, and i run bfore he can breathe to say more, into the hallway, the end is dark, fire flies at me, burning arros past me, i am in shock, the demon is impailed many times, it leaps with the power of shadow that each step is two, then three, than four instead of one, i am bitten in the back by silver blade and warrior hack at the shadow cutting limbs as heavy artillery bots try to peirce its chest, i am dragged to the bridge over the streem surrounding the stone lined hell, the demon groans in some terror and retreats and also vanishes into smoke and dark and shadow, i fall into the river, i bleed into the water as they dive to find me a dying stranger, i can breathe in the water, below the current i can count each grain of sand and feel the sunset.
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