There are those who exist within shadow,
Wearing the skins of wraiths while dealing in whispered oaths.
They trade screams for silence, pain for emptiness,
They take the light and leave only dark.

It is them who hold countless false promises,
Corrupt dealings and sinful desires pile alongside confessionals,
It makes no difference who comes to them;
Continuously, they consume trembling guilt as if it were brandy.

It is them, these creators of faulty bargains,
That you come to with your sacred words.
Alters, sacrifices, incantations, and mindless begging,
You will stop at nothing to reunite with your lost.

The rain does not deter you,
Not even as its acid hooks into your skin.
The red throats surrounding you do not scare you off,
Not even as you wade through their remains.

No, you have come to make a deal,
Foolish of you, really.
For you have entered the realm of shadows,
Home to phantoms.
You are dealing with the consorts of lies;
And you will not leave alive.