I can feel your weigth and your cold steal against the flesh of my bare hands.
I move my hand to the edge, the edge that pierce, cuts, and drinks the blood of its victims.
I feel along the length of the cold steal, along the fuller that drinks the blood, fueling my strength.
I move my hands over the cross-guard encrusted with two large pricelss rubins, the very soul of your being.
The cross-guard that have saved my life many a times, blocked deadly attacks from enemies trying to cut me down.
I can sometimes feel you watching over me through the glimmering eyes of your burning soul.

I grip you with all my strength, swing, block, cut and stabbing at my enemies.
You are my hearth that cuts the evil, you are my hearth for which I wade through my nightmares of terror.
You are my hearth that keeps me alive, you are my hearth that keeps me alive in this horror of life.

You are my life.

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