Upon the next morning I walked into an empty old house Found this scroll on the floor Among with all her rotten gore Her name was yet unknown But she was called the Mistress of Curse She struck a needle in my heart Even though she was torn apart Diary of a Dying Queen Entitled to the vicious script I sat and read it all that night About her everlasting fight Fifth storm of Blizzard Wings These last cryptic words was written in blood I couldn't help myself to wonder What she had left beyond her Waking up to painful screams That day began the fearful dreams Her love has gone into my head I'm falling for a rotting dead The reverend said I was infected But I was awake and smelling the air Reading from the scroll of love and guarding my angel flying above I searched around in town For clues about the Blizzard Wings All their mouths was wide, but shut then I stumbled over a hut Carved wood on the wall "Oh death where is thy sting" A particular abysmal smell of gore met me as I walked through the door Early morning chaos weeped against me once inside What I found when I was there was to become my greatest fear Inside the Mistress' hut I found what I'd been looking for A torn out paper from the scroll announcing for whom the bell tolled