The night has come and we are ready, me with my mask of death and magic, and they, the Walkers of the dark clothes for a ritual of preparing for war weapons on rafts and canoes, we start The journey is long, from the center of the forest rise purple souls of silence and follow us guide us in this travel, appear to many fireflies.
Walkers of the dark are very aggressive, I already feel the smell of blood, with my mask of death and magic, the sea is a table with ash, the air does not exist, rowing rowing after the voltage rises,
the surprises you in a hurry in the hands touch the weapons, the other island in the middle you see a glow, and a huge bonfire on the beach, maybe they're waiting, I laugh with my courage to the taste of a sinister fear, a form of death and magic.
On the south the other island rises a mist that covers the whole island in a few seconds, making it invisible, nonexistent, slow down and proceed with caution, the fog is going away, the souls of silence gives voice to our fear, lacks a little revenge, a form of death and magic.
The dawn has come, and we arrived, we descend from the boats, everything seems to have lived, we enter the forest, we decided to divide us, I feel strange sensations, something that does not convince my intuition, we move forward, and also Here the vegetation and thick, now a fog comes in and nothing is visible, no longer see the walkers of the dark, is total panic, I try to calm the men, the fog goes away, everything is like before, I have strong doubts about the success of this enterprise, a form of death and magic, I decide to stop and take me with 10 men and decide to return to the beach, others say to wait for our return.
get to the beach where we left the canoes and rafts, known to no longer be seen on the island of Zamoras, the point from where we started, the fear is a wild animal that comes into you without asking permission, let's go back from other men, on a particular right is no exception to my view, is the beach crab black
we enter the forest this is also because of the purple flowers, rising doubts, move forward and come to a point that I know well Round is the plain where the fairies lived and where I met the Goddess, and she brought me back to life, this is the purple and forest Island Zamoras.
Many mysteries are part of nature, and what happened is one of them, maybe a gap, a leap into hyperspace has revealed to us or catapult into nothingness, a journey with no beginning and no return, where everything is as before, with my mask of death and magic.
Walkers of the dark have become aware of what happened, without a round trip of no return.
Now we have to divide us but I tell them that I hope soon to meet again, with my mask of death and magic.
The ocean is in my blood and bubbles like a storm that does not find peace, and I'm going forward.
(I dedicate my text to the Goddess.)
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