Obelisk Throne

Marching over the mountain
Atop my loyal mastodon
I awake at the camp in the morning
Set my sights on the ziggurat
Make our way to the valley
Marching through the swamp
Sticks and mud underfoot
In the ruin of the lake
A humid heat with air so thick
I could cut it with my blade
'Til finally above the trees
We see the looming pyramid
Dreaming of the Obelisk
On the throne sits my own flesh
I’ve walked the land
Climbed every step
To return to where my soul is enmeshed
I went to the Seer
To har what She would tell
She told m of the fortress
Made of black obsidian
A stepped pyramid
Throne atop its peak
Usurper sits it now
But it was chiseled just for me
Charging at the steps
Kicking at my steed
Arrows flying overhead
Raining down on me
Brandishing my sword
Crying out for more
If that’s the best you can do
You best prepare for war
I can see it
I can feel it
That chair you sit upon is mine
That chair of black stone
The Obelisk Throne
That chair of black stone
The Obelisk Throne
That chair of black stone
The Obelisk Throne
That chair of black stone
The Obelisk Throne
Finally
The final step
Take one more leap
And hold your breath
On the throne
Seated, the Usurper
Skin and bone
Depleted, lifeless and bare
With a laugh
I grab his corpse and throw it to the ground
Staring back
The glossy sheen of an obsidian throne
I take my seat
And feel its energy coursing through me
The power of the pyramid
Under my feet
But what is this?
Sudden and sharp I feel its touch
A cold iron hand grabs my heart
And my lungs
Shortness of breath
As my heart stops its beat
What have I done?
As my vision fades
In the distance I make out the shape
Of a mastodon
On a mountaintop