Bloody Spires

The shadowed spires that pierce the gloom
Midnight’s veil doth shroud the trembling earth
Lords of blood with vengeance sealed in doom
Engage in rites that scorn their noble birth

Their rapiers glint with cruel and fleeting light
Each thrust a dirge, each parry fate’s cruel jest
The winds do howl the heavens mourn their plight
As blades find flesh and rage consumes the breast  

“Have at thee, cur!” the elder cries in wrath
His voice a thunder on the still, cold air
“For honor’s stain, thou shalt not leave this path
Thy life is forfeit to my heart’s despair!”  

The younger, pale, with eyes like storm-torn seas
Returns with hate a smile sharp as steel
“Thy claims of honor choke upon the breeze
For what thou seeks, thou nevermore shall feel.”  

Their footfalls echo 'gainst the stony ground
The chapel’s walls do drink their bitter strife
Each lunge, a curse; each cry, a solemn sound  
That tolls the hourglass of fleeting life

The spires above, like phantoms’ claws, loom wide  
Their gothic arms enshrouding death’s domain
The moon weeps pale as blood begins to slide  
From rended flesh, and stains the earth profane

At last, one falls—a gasp, a gurgling cry
His rapier clatters on the cobbled stone
The victor stands, yet hollow in his eye
For vengeance claimed hath left him all alone

“O cruelest fate!” he wails unto the dark
“Thy justice rends, yet leaves the soul in chains!  
The spires bear witness to my form now stark
Where honor’s name is writ in death’s remains.”  

And thus the winds do carry forth their shame
While shadows deepen 'neath the mournful spires
Noble names, now scorched by vengeance' flame
Lie lost forever in the grave’s cold fires