To defend: this is the pact. But when life loses its meaning and is taken for naught, then the pact is to avenge!


Winter's snow or sun bleached sand, atop her crown adorned A hidden smile, a twinkle'd eye behind a soul doth mourn for times were lost at sombre cost and rift was cruelly cast And now the emerald eyes do gaze on home's return at last.

Her smile a thought of yesteryear, her voice an angels song her movements sure, her soft caress can weaken e'en the strong. A simple glance and yet, perchance she ponders deep within. A treasures loss, and fortunes tossed, and here she strides again.

Upon her soft white flesh at wrist a symbol long since laid of night and day or yes and no, perhaps a man and maid. One side the darkest night doth grasp, the next is naught to see 'less magics skill can fain surpass and then reveal to thee. Another such is out beyond and calls to faded colour and so can fill as nearness thrills the one can find the other.

A simple blade also adorns her jaw below her ear A symbol of her long lost tribe she carries through each year. And so, my friends fair Tarna stands throughout the years swept past. And of her friends, Tarakians, she sadly is the last.