Onward past the Black Sea through the land of the Great
we tread beneath fall eventide to the dead undead estate,
within the gloom, lady and I, spied the children of the night
calling the witching hour and a meal for their bellies to sate.
We crept on past mounds of bones and unmarked graves,
deep in the blume we found a path and his name engraved,
but the effluvium filled her eyes, so her tongue soon advised:
"Abandon all hope ye who enter here, as none are saved."
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