In that place of darkest dark,
the realm of empty hope,
Finlam fought against despair,
to climb that slippery slope.

Souls fled past and demons charged
to claim his spark their own.
He cast and cast his mighty spells,
not one would he condone.

But the words he knew, the arcane rites,
were of him to no avail.
And Finlam felt the chill touch of death
come for him in sooth and wail.