How sacred is their offering, Dia'ruis. Witness Your priestess of the Graceful Witness.

Fire against frost, blood upon snow, the stillness that humbles even Winter's brutality.

Where we lie down to die, and where our blood and bone feed Your precious flowering

There do we become root and seed, the red that stains white, the bloom of what must be.

There do we become earth, and whisper our stories to the trees

May She take our bloodied flesh; may you be as sky with me.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 8th of Severin, in the year 8 AC.