Sleeping Shadows

The crusader takes off her plate armour.

Revealing undershirt and her skin bare.

She takes off a ring of her order,

On the bed's wool she lies down her hair.

…

Beside her there burns but one candle.

On her face it casts its golden light.

An Ascenian of the far east,

Sleeping in Westmarch's night.

…

Diablo, Malthael, demons and death,

What they began has come to end.

No more shall the blood of humans be spilt,

No more family bonds they shall rend.

…

Is the Crusade over, she wonders?

Is it now she can finally unwind?

Is her name truly hers to call herself?

A name that is called Valentine.

…

A name that is non-Kehjistani,

Yet it's a name that she bears nonetheless.

It's the name that died on Terror's lips.

It's the name that stood up to dark Death.

…

She goes to snuff out the dim candle,

But stops as she holds out her hand.

Is darkness something that she wants now?

Like the darkness that brought death against Man?

…

Can she dream now she wonders, or does nightmare await,

Is deep sleep something she can afford?

Or is she doomed to walk in dark shadow,

Always fated to carry a sword?

…

The candle's nonetheless extinguished.

At the least no more souls shall be reaped.

And while evil may return to this world,

For now all she wants is to sleep.