Fire and ash, his last black dance,
Out of the smoke and gone,
Into a life of small reward,
His return is the first omen,
What plot has he set in motion?
How long before another game begins?
His pieces move across the board,
The promise of a hundred years of gold,
At what price none yet know,
The alleys are whispering,
Can you hear their desperation?
His grand chorus at twilight,
There are few who know his name,
And the few keep it,
Their silence is their oath,
When the game begins he will not delay,
Those who resist might know ill fates,
Such is the price of rolling the dice,
Luck in the Shadows.
