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When the battle is over
The deed has been done,
With the challenger vanquished
And the Quickening won;
The victor awaits for
The storm to begin,
For the strength and the power
That he must take in.
The flashes of lightening
Start slowly at first,
Then crackle and sizzle;
The air seems to burst.
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Like a great vengeful storm
It rips into his soul
It’s the rule of the Game
And he must play his role.
In anguish he screams
As the storm holds him fast
And then falls to his knees
When it’s over at last
And there is no escape
There is nowhere to run
For it must be accepted
When the Quickening’s won
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