The thunder-lord had forsaken no soul today,
And the wet sand was retaining every step being put forth.
As the army of a hundred and thousand descended from far away,
He stood on the watch tower, keeping an eye on all; the wise lord.
His men by his side, drenched as he- but nonetheless not afraid,
They have heard the stories of these marching men.
A black smoke devouring all as far as one could see, they said-
And many kingdoms those have fed them, but the hunger would never end.


The queen sat by the ailing sunlight, sunset never seen more red,
Morbid thoughts wrecking havoc on her fragile mind.
How many more must perish and what more was to be bled,
So let it be - with monsters and beasts now a king must dine.
She thought, what a crime.

The weather grew colder as the sun hid behind the ashen'd hills,
And a master sat upon a throne carried by ten men.
The forest was growing thick and there was a silenced shrill,
And walls of a kingdom was coming to them.
There he laid his eyes upon an another tale,
Like so many others, he mustn't let them stand his path.
His eyes red as blood and skin full of scars and pale,
He had the blood of his ancestors gushing through his heart.
He was no king- he was a master and a master has no kingdom, only slaves.
Despaired as far as the words can reach, he was but a demi-god.
His conquest to conquer all and make world his cage,
Now the only one standing by his side, the lone lord.

His eyes grew weary- as he watched, the men in black march,
A blacksmith he was, standing tall- with a bow by the king.
Looking beyond barely, he was awaiting the dark,
When the moon will hover and the owls will sing.
For a thousand years they had made this place their home,
In an overgrowth of wild ashen'd oak, in shadows.
Where no one dared to cross their path of stone,
In rivers those run red at night and where corpses lay afloat.
But he knew his king and he knew the curse they all consumed,
Only the lord of sun had the power to crush their walls,
'tis the land of their old, a charm in its cold and gloom,
He stood weak but awake, for here cometh the nightfall.


The march came to halt as the last rays kissed the air,
Outside the walls, they stood bare- prying behind the curtains.
Now it was all but clear- a hundred thousand men were here,
As them walls now glowed in the burning lanterns.
Thought he- the master of all, how could it be,
The kingdom in the dark had stood for a thousand years.
How many more like him had ventured beyond the haunted sea,
But all there was to this place, were tales of fear.
They said the king was no mere mortal,
But a nightmare- wicked and wise, cruel when he must be.
He had heard of the stories- these walls harboured a portal,
A place of vanquish for all those who dared to claim their land and trees.


He stood up and in almost a growl he said,

" bow before me, oh the mighty- and
you shall be spared my wrath "

His eyes red and cold and his fist around his sword, he prayed,

" for ye' men, women and children- a
warning and a last "

The king whispered with ice in his voice and rage in his heart,

" for a thousand years we have lived and will for a thousand more "

And clouds hungover and huge shadows they did cast,

" what of the men who stood before you- did ye' not hear the lores ?"

The clouds began to disperse as the moonlight kissed the air,

" I have heard of them, he said, but
only a child will ever believe them "

He said loud enough so every last man could hear,

" enough of your words, now your age
will come to an end "


And then he smiled- the lone king, he whispered

" men might claim evil, but they can
never devour monsters "

His eyes grew darker as the thirst for blood lingered,

" ye' don't have a clue, who we must
be- oh my master "

The pale master drew his sword and screamed from beyond,

" ye' dare humiliate me, so be it, oh my
lone king- none shall survive after "

The lone king drew his breath and teeth - like in a trance, a song,

" Oh fool, ye' still can't feel-
nevertheless, I'm no lone king,
my name is Dracula, my master ".




And like they did, for a thousand years- the river ran red after the feast.