come one sunrise, i shall sink my talons into your cold, morning skin, and shred to pieces the throbbing, slippery strands you're woven of, even if i may have to rip the hull of naglfar to forge myself the claws.
i'll cradle your severed head within my victorious arms like you were a child again, and whisper in your temple stories about the gods only you were meant to hear.
and then i will eat your ears. but i will not put out your eyes, so that at night you, like the uncountable stars in the skies that i have conquered, may hold vigil over my sleep of the kings.
