Of the earth in the tomb as in the medieval forest.
Birth of the light of the flame that filters through the dust of the crypt.
Baptized in the waters of northern skies.
Filled with the fury of the storm winds as they howl and tear through the wilds.
Soaked in sorrow, fleshed in pain, fed on despair, and driven by vengeance of those whose lives need never have been to be taken.
Commanded by those whose will is Fate.
He who is, was, and will be again, yet he who is not, eternally.