Part III: The Black

farther in and further down the knight did drag his feet

Blindly through the bleak unknown, into the dreaded deep.

Where every step was masked by such grave uncertainty

That floors may fail and men may fall to rest eternally

The air was stagnant, still and cold. His breath a pale white fog.

the sound of silence lingered like the fumes above a bog.

But like a puppet on a string his feet did pull him forth

as had the voice that summoned him into the bitter north.

"Cavallin grave, Cavallin fair, I've seen through my fake eye

Sweet Carolyne, the lady of thy heart, is soon to die

but fear thee not for I have seen the cure beyond the glass,

the secret to thy lady's life is held in Beggar's Pass."

Some called her wise, some called her witch, but no name did she hold.

Local rumor had it she was near two centuries old

Hunched in back, but sharp in mind, her hands did hold to him

A strangely adorned pendant like a scythe upon a pin.

"A warning to the wicked, one must sacrifice to win."