Lonely figure stood at a crossroads in dose vicinity to towering gallows.
Calmly he took the steps up and removed his silvery crown, which soon corroded in his hands.
He knew there was no returning to the former life anymore.
With the noose around his neck he awaited to see the first clouds gathering.
He would be there at the end.
Visions through time call the greedy.
Last night among the living.
Carved from the blackest of woods.
Swallowing the poison, he reaches the gallows.
Spitting up blood the last king dies.
Deadly magic leaves a copse hanging for nine days and nights before removed.
Arcane forces escort the deceased.
Nevermore seen alive.
Travelling through time.
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