The scarlet stroke begins to gleam,The heptagram revealed in dream,A howl behind the veil was cast,The wolf’s imprint now in the past.But even wolves must leave a sign,A path of blood, a shifting line,The trail she carved, still burning red,Marks where the old world bled.And now the liquid starts to pour,Not just from wound — but something more,A thirst awakens in the night,And eyes emerge without the light.The prophecy has closed its page,Yet hunger writes a newer stage.The heart still beats, but deeper now...Beware the cold. Prepare to bow.