~Prelude~
A thunderstorm approaches.
Heavy footsteps. Trudging along what appears to be wood, they continue walking, the sound misplaced with each step. Thunder crackles above, the light sound of pouring rain and wind mixing with the weighted steps. The storm grows, almost ominous. The figure, battered, bruised, broken, continues along, the monastery in sight ahead, signal fires still ablaze despite the torrents of deluge that strike from the sky. He reaches the door, knocks once under the deafening thunder, and collapses.
~Intro~
The man is carried inside, and laid down. Clothes shredded, blood dried on his skin, as the thunder roars overhead. The monks chatter softly, unsure of his purpose, his reason of being here, as his mind wanders in unconsciousness.
Memories replay over and over. Tuscany, a week prior. The sun glittering off the water, the streets busy save for one part of town, hidden from public eyes. He sits at a café, awaiting contact. It arrives, but in a different form, one of fear and dread. Four more appear behind, assembled to that of a hit squad: dressed to kill. They strike; he defends, but is taken down roughly. His mind wanders to that of a girl: raven-haired, eyes of ruby, a smile that warms his blood.
~Chorus~
The monastery, present. He recovers slowly, medicines and magicks tend his wounds, but not the scarring of his mind. Days on days he trains to survive.
~Rest~
His dreams haunt. Visions of the girl glint every thought, ones that go from joy to sorrow, as if threatening him with a possible loss. The five faces appear at the end, sneering, degrading his life with their eyes.
~Outro~
He stands outside the monastery. Months passed again, his arm encased in silver. The monks bow; he responds the same, respect in his motions. A blade is handed to him, and he bows again, turning and leaving. As he walks, the vision of the five monsters appear behind him, scowling as if in doubt.
~Interlude~
His steps travel far, his weight heavy. Months gone, no contact given. Memories play through his mind, and words numb his tongue in contemplation. He arrives home after weeks of travel, standing in front of a building. Behind him, the five monsters still haunting him as shadows, but ahead five angels await his return as spirits; the Fool, the Wheel of Fortune, the Lovers, the Chariot, Justice. The smile at him inviting, the monsters behind his form vanish, and his hand reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and forward.
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