When shadow crowned the broken road
And towers screamed in iron flame,
Four walked where armies dared not go
With scarred hands, hope, and borrowed names.The Black-Crowned stood with shattered shield,
His oath unburned by demon breath.
The Saint struck first, then laughed through blood,
A rose that bloomed where others fell to death.A knife sang soft beneath the moon,
The Gnome who ran where giants died,
While song broke fear and mended souls
From a beard of pink and stubborn pride.No god marched with them. None returned.
But ash receded where they stood.
For even hell must step aside
When mortals choose to still be good.