In the clearing, the two boldly stand
A dagger in each of their hand

A snarl so sinister, it makes skin crawl
Both men stand for their vengeful brawl

The older one stands, laughing at him
To not holdback is on a whim

The younger does not fear this man
Instead, holds out a peaceful hand

It is smacked away, so it starts
Of old moves, of old arts

The old fights the young
It will continue until either has won

Of claws and teeth blows
Of darkness and evil blood flows

The young gets hurt, and yelps in pain
The old shade laughs as it starts to rain

The young looks at him not giving up
Blood on the shades lips, like he drank it from a cup

The young smiles and confuses the old
His next move is nothing but bold

He pulls his blade on it his crest
And plunges it deeply in his chest

The power that fell from his hands
Erupted in long, clear strands

The shade winces and falls back
Surprised and scared of this sacred attack

Gabriel gripped his throat
Lifting his body as if a float

The shade spat to finish him off
Gabriel had to do it, though his heart soft

He slit his throat spilling blood
Falling to the ground making mud

Gabriel stood ready to die
Re-running his life in a blink of an eye

But the witches three shook their head
They put away their scissors and their thread

He stood covered in his blood
He was the one that finally won