Sacrifice

Sacrificio de héroes

Version 2

Vekir, Guardian of Lamos, felt an eerie shift,
This hero, no longer the noble spirit he once 
knew.
Kneeling, she raised an ancient blade with a 
sinister lift,
A blade obtained through sacrifice, 
darkness imbued.

Her head lifted, revealing a visage stained 
with red,
Tears of sorrow mingled with blood upon her 
chin.
Vekir's voice filled with dread,
"You've changed," he whispered, "What 
have you done?"

But before his eyes, her resolve took form,
The hero, consumed by a darkness 
unknown.
As Vekir reached for the blade, a deadly 
storm,
She stood tall, offering herself as a
sacrifice, all alone.

The room trembled with a dreadful hush,
As she willingly embraced the blade's 
consuming maw.
Her essence consumed, her spirit turned to 
dust,
From the depths of Lamos, a demon did 
draw.

El sacrificio de los ecos, she emerged,
A demon born of sacrifice and pain.
Her eyes glowed with a malevolent urge,
A haunting echo of the hero that once did 
remain.

Vekir, gripped by a twisted desire,
Witnessed the transformation, his heart 
filled with dread.
As the demon before him burned like a 
funeral pyre,
The hero lost, consumed by the blade's 
dread.

In the realm of Lamos, darkness reigned 
supreme,
El sacrificio de los ecos, a demon born from 
tragedy.
Vekir's quest for power, a wretched dream,
For now, he faced a twisted manifestation of 
his apathy.
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Sacrificio burlado

Version 1

In the realm of Lamos, where shadows
creep,
Vekir, the Guardian, was awakened from
sleep.
He gazed upon the hero, with a mocking
stare,
For something amiss, a burden she did
bear.

"Wait," said Vekir, his voice dripping disdain,
"Something's different, your demeanor
is not the same.
No longer noble, no longer pure,
What have you done, dear hero, to ensure
That ancient blade clutched tight within
your grasp,
A prize obtained by sacrifice, a deadly
clasp?"

He sneered at her, his eyes gleaming with 
scorn,
As her tears mixed with blood, a forlorn
mourn.
Kneeling there, one knee pressed against
the stone,
Her heart weighed heavy, with sacrifice
unknown.

"Oh, how brave you are, a blade so rare,
Obtained by shedding blood, a life you dare.
Tell me, hero, who did you forsake,
To wield that weapon, your soul a stake?
A loved one, perhaps, once close and dear,
Their life extinguished, their memory
seared?"

The hero trembled, her voice but a whisper,
"Vekir, Guardian of Lamos, my heart's
blister,
I gave up someone, someone I hold dear,
Their sacrifice fuels this blade of fear.
You mock my pain, my burden so deep,
But know this, Vekir, even shadows weep."

Vekir laughed, a wicked sound in the air,
Mocking her anguish, reveling in dispair.
"Shadows weep? How quaint, a feeble plea,
A blade stained with blood, a heart torn 
apart,
Your noble facade crumbling, a broken art."
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