Mortal

You aspire to become

Τhe arrow that teaches

The embodiment of virtue

The carrier of Logos

To voyage into uncharted expanses

And wage war on the Old Gods

Yet, mortal

Your words are nought

Your light is pallid

Your armor is cracked

Unless you thrust at yourself

First

The sword that you wield

For even the smallest body

And the faintest voice

Can ripple dimensions apart

Should their aim strike true enough

A single day

In two years of darkness