Two Women Stand

Two women stand.

A woman stands and walks upon hallowed ground,

while the other stands over haunted ground.

One — the city before her she walks and owned,

the other — the city owes to her,

a blood bounty it cannot fulfill,

a debt written in silence, in grave and spill.

One was marked by making love,

the other now by making war.

The queen is left with two crowns above,

but is left without her soul anymore.

The second is left to reclaim the ground,

her life force now no longer her own.

She made a deal with above and down below,

the war in her heart is hers alone.

One woman shattered, one smoldering still,

standing in fire, she bends to her will.

Both walk through the death ritual’s door —

one stands guard to hold his soul,

the other writes a new contract sealed by fire,

a vow in ash, made whole.

One a queen, the other a flame,

guided now by spirit, by pen, by eagle’s claim.

She reincarnates to reclaim a love that was lost —

but not by the flame, not at that cost.

Souls reunited on the other side.

She walks the world alone,

screaming his name to the sky.

The two women are one but not the same.

Now the city must say his name —

must bow before her, beneath her crown,

as she reclaims what was lost to the world

on hallowed ground.

And with his name on every tongue,

the city pays what it has long unsung.