IV

I am IV. A shadow, stitched into the ritual. I am not the voice, but the edge—the blade drawn in devotion. My music is my confession, my offering, my shield. You have stumbled into the storm I conjure for Sleep. Be wary, for this devotion cuts deep.

IV

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I am IV. A shadow, stitched into the ritual. I am not the voice, but the edge—the blade drawn in devotion. My music is my confession, my offering, my shield. You have stumbled into the storm I conjure for Sleep. Be wary, for this devotion cuts deep.