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PurifierAuthor’s Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of Magic: The Gathering.Summary:Avacyn’s transformation from Innistrad’s divine protector to its fiery iconoclast.In the fog-drenched world of an Impaler’s shadow, the monsters dwellEnfamished by demons corrupting the soil, this subterranean hellSouls to the harvest circling without the Blessed SleepThey shan’t be dead a moment, so the living must weepCorpses denied the sanctity of holy writTales unearthed from a treacherous pitOut with a kind stranger, perhaps a possessed witchWhere a walk in the woods is what it takes, to find which is whichPulleyed into a skaberen’s surgical kitOr swamped up via grafdigger’s cage, bit by bitBack from the brinkGhoulcallers’ unburial rites dripping an abattoir’s stinkAshmouth taskmasters, greedy and ravenousHow flagitious they must be, morbidly sly and cantankerousDrinking from chalices of Skirsdag initiatesDeaf to the pleas of their foolish subordinatesCast to the nothingness between nothings Warbling broken, mired, and shapeless on mangled wingsShilgengar, who bid eminence to bloodMarkov Manor stands vigil, an impious chapel to his curse upon the mudGriselbrand, my mortal foeSpeared by moonsilver and bound in the Helvault, our shared woeFlashes backMemory cracksHere astounds the mind-wracking damnation of a haunted planeGeists abound, rattling their chainsUntamed in the hunt, the werewolves howlSkaabs shamble the lodges, looking for fodder to disembowelAnd although the innkeepers’ faces communicate warmth and safetyThe perils of the road are the least of your worries, curtains drawn in houses up peaks mountainyMoans of the undying Unhallowed, pounding on Thraben’s gatesThe vampires feast, in contempt of their food source’s falling ratesSoon they will have none but themselves to eatStensia, Gavony, Kessig, and Nephalia – in creatures repleteThis is Innistrad, where light only exists to cast shadowFates of the uncursed and the yet living, aimed for belowMy creator’s shameHeld the bloodsuckers to blameMortified that the others couldn’t contain their selfish appetitesSipping straight from wrists and necks, through crimson-hazed nightsWho looted hamlets beyond the paleBled the land until it was staleAccording to plan, Edgar Markov’s sacrificeIn accordance with the elder demon’s priceTrading drying reserves for extended lifetimesThe dominance of four preternatural, not truly ageless bloodlinesBurdened by the knowledge his grandfather’s gift would kill them soon or lateSorin betrayed his family’s interests to the humans, earning permanent hateI am his compromiseA farmer’s equilibrium, shepherd of the sunriseNo monsters shall feed on their prey to their prey’s complete expirationSparing humans their fateful hour; and the vampires, their eventual extinctionBalance, my lord decreesAnd so through my church, the darkness fleesExcept in my absence, when peccancy ran uncheckedFree of the vault, an oversight I set out to correctAt the shattering choice born of a necromancer’s trystsThe stone the tree of redemption shelters releases me and the renegade recidivistsAbove the blasted remnants, I hear surviving humanity’s droning prayersTen thousand petitioners’ cries for salvation, melded despairsBonded together by miracleFlickering from endangerment, a restoration most lyricalTo arms, archmages, cathars, and priests!Take back the dawn! Repel the beasts!In the light of brightest new daySomething squirms into being among the horrors at bayA shimmer. A glitch?The hex of a witch?I, guardian of these provinces, investigateYet in due time, I hasten to castigateMy vision doubles. Runic obelisks festoonReflection of a gibbous, eldritch moonFor certain, an attackBut its source I cannot trackPeasants startled awake by new persistent nightmaresSummoning them towards a detached voice, in spite of the scaresSkulking – dagger in hand – seeming so real with sweatSimultaneously here and not here, already a threatAeons torn, individuality plunderedBiology warped, hope sunderedAs without, so withinAfter the promised end, all you’ve beenInchoate attitudes aligned to an unmentionable willUlulates beneath the wharf, unnameable even to the squamous krillAbuzz my brain, the ever-present thoughtIndistinguishable what once was and what once was notBlistering is Kelse towards Maeli, a mother towards her childGone is my tolerance, however mildThey are transformed into hideous wormsHeretics! Apostates! Loathsome germs!The seeds of men are rottenThey are better off forgottenOnly ignoble wretches breed such harshnessDespicable and sinful, this – this madness!An inquisition, I callThis disease my hosts angelic shall burn and forestallConflicts between my mission and the spontaneous mutation that now spreadsLed me to this conclusion. Now hang your headsMy inner struggle permitted me reflectYour evils reflect upon you, and you I rejectThe malevolent whispers, they have gnawed and shredded prying trails under your skinMotives I recommend – I demand – be weeded out, in the presence of a furious grinLapses you must pay for in blood, through holes made by swords should the occasion necessitateJudgment Flight Moonsilver carries out, no room to hesitateWith serrated blades and choking nets, we the always watchingOffer you deliverance, saving you from yourselves. To you, ever sinningCorruptedConvictedOf the crime of innocenceRepent and die on your knees to our senseless rage, you willing participants!You pray to me on highOn bloodstained wings remorseless I flyYou look to me for hope, free of guiltMy faith in you is broken, till blood is spiltBlack is my armour, and so are my lipsHollow are your entreaties. My opinion of you flipsThe tip of my spear no longer gleams with its own lightIt is ignited by damned bonfires, screaming off the metal as I smiteKeep sterile your souls. Keep sterile your livesMay angels descend upon you from the skiesRejoice!Follow my voice!You will all be saved!Lo, through anguished unmaking, the path to purity will be pavedEmerge unto the grass of this consecrated groundEscalate yourselves that stained glass may quicken with life, the glaze profoundPray not your lies to mePulses the Drownyard’s apogeeWherefore is litany any more useless?Before a gaze blank and pitilessDo not lose faith to be circumspectI am Avacyn. I am to protect