How did it even start,

This fight?

The Sage of Holy Wind

Can’t really say,

she never can.

As always she is drawn

By the Wind’s beckoning call.

Drawn by whispered words

Of the Flashing Light’s fight

And her devilish foe.

That’s all she needs.


On those same gusts

She rushes

As she can

To the Light’s side.

A sudden guest

In the grueling conflict

She alarms them both,

The foe and the knight.

With a curse from both

And a grin from her

The combat continues

With desperation.


The foe has six arms

And three faces

All on one head,

A dreadful asura.

He swings six swords

With fiendish speed

And sings a song

Of hate that cuts deep

into the earth

Tearing it from her feet,

The King’s Blade.


She leaps up

Taking to the air

And calls down lights

That crash

With all the fury of thunder

Sped on by her own song

And Hope’s dire will.

Hope to protect.

Hope to save.

Hope to destroy.


His shout shakes the light

From the skies

And he lunges forth,

A dance of blades

Seeking gore and more.

His speed is great

But greater still

Is the Wind’s.

A gusting wave pushes him

Back and down.

He is thrown from the air,

The Fate Spinning Winds’ domain.


Grinning the Blade dives

Down and down

With righteous fury

And the blue glow

Of purest Light’s intent.

The ****** is sure, strong

And cracks like thunder.

The raging storm

Of Grimm’s good servant,

The Light’s own sage.


There is more to him

Than shouts and swords

And six arms though.

There’s a lack of care

And a burning hatred

For all the King’s men.

Many would run

Or raise up a shield

Guarding themselves from death.

But he welcomes it

Letting the blade run deep,

Piercing him through

and mortally so.

Then he catches the arm

That wielded the blade

And pulls down the Blade.


The fight seems over and done

From the Holy Wind’s high place

Her home, the air,

But a screech rings out.

Four devious daggers

Made of Darkness

Claim the King’s Blade,

Rending her flesh

And digging in deadly.

She is tossed aside

Like a toy

Bleeding and cursing

And ******.


The asura ****** too

Rises up

Rage incarnate

Blind and dumb

And unrelenting

To finish his job.

He raises up

An arm and then another

Before the shocked sage

Buffets him with a wind.

Tossed he turns

Terrific rage building more

And directs it at her,

The sage unbelieving.


Like a shock of silver

Cold and quick

To the gut and the heart

Is the fear mounting.

Fear for her,

Fear of loss

Of a friend, a lover dear,

Known for a thousands years

And hopefully a thousand more.

The Wind’s sing of necessity

And Fate.

Of life and death,

An air of change,

Unyielding in its march.

The tune is so welcome

Normally,

Though it seems so cruel.

Now it is dreaded,

Disbelieved.

Now it makes her pause,

Turning to look

Searching for life

In her partner dear.


Finding that hesitation

The asura jumps up high

Blades ready

And burning with demon fire,

But his arms are pulled back

And he is pulled down

By deep red chains

Of crimson fluidity,

Of blood.

They coil and cut

Like blades

Slicing an arm free

Then two, then three,

But he breaks free

Shrugging off bonds

With a scream.


From the floor she rises

The Flashing Light

Eyes aflame

With red fury

Brilliant and ominous

As the Red Moon.

From the Flashing Light spills

Blood like a torrent

Shaped into swords

As would the Light be.

The sound of his chant

Is cut short

By a wave of dark

Butterflies fluttering from her.

The sound of her chant

Rings out

Sending forth a wave

Of blood made blades.

Skewering, rending

Utterly ending the foe.

She rises a victor

Dripping blood,

And her wounds close

Fed blood.


She rises a vampire revealed

And fear falls

In the Holy Wind’s Heart.