Down one Angel threw himself, into the Patron Mother’s hold,
She saw love and desperation, through his passion and his bold.
She brands him with her staff, and unto him these words she told:
“With this scar upon your head, you can roam without concern.
You may search for what you lost, but beware, the clock will turn,
for when it strikes one-thousand times your journey will complete,
and you will be returned then, still scarred yet in defeat.
"However, I will say, if you do find what you lost,
to life I can bring her, (though you don't know yet the cost).
Azrael you shall be named, for you are so naïve,
I will not yet tell you why, now face your doom and leave."
So the Fallen Angel wanders this world of ash and snow,
and for one-thousand winters through the dead realm he will row.
But be wary, one does not leave that wicked realm still sane:
"When he returns," the Mother laughs, "the world will feel true pain."