King Lear raises his arm, and slays devils with a strike
of his wand. Neither a soul nor a man must approach the sacred realm; its only
protection relays in his hands. Holding with strenght his magical weapon, the
King is attacked by a thorough demon. Not the first, either the last, again his
blood will be sloshed on the walls.
King Lear cries in despair, his knees failing to hold
such weight. But he will stand up, as in the countless ocassions he had to face
the dangerous hellions.
“Behold!” –he shouts, menacing the darkness– “As long as
I breathe no trespasser will enter! Because I am the last of the holy
sovereigns, mine is the duty of guarding the remains”.
Suddenly Lear is surrounded by crows, myriads of
feathers which hurt him like blows. They sting his skin until blood is spilled;
the surroundings begin to twirl until the King is stock-still.
And then, the spinning stops; white become the crows. A
room appears all of a sudden, and Lear is imprisoned with his arms tightened.
His mind drowns in a current of darkness, and when he wakes up discovers
himself to be harmless.
“Please!” – he begs, with an inaudible voice– “Unleash
me from this chains so I can defend the reigns!”. But no one answers the pleads
of the King, while faint shadows cover him and open their wings. And then, the
chains stab his veins; away goes the pain and Lear can do nothing but faint.
King Lear opens his eyes, from the ashes he shall arise. Even if his duty tries to drag him down, the King must bear his burden; heavy lies the crown. And again he confronts the slain, who must always be restrained, and anew he defies a past that he can not outlast. The demonic ichor spreads through his mind, while his body remains binded in a white bed confined.
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