To the centennial battlefield, I was called.

Where once a victorious flag stood,

A temple to Her had been erected.

I am here so that She may bless the beads I carry,

Like Aolians of the past did.

The sacred pool before me,

A small pillar rises in the middle

Bearing the shape of The Goddess.

The priests are quick to disrobe and instruct me.

"Lay the stones on Her hands,

And bear in your thoughts your reason to fight.

If moonlight gleams on your beads,

Your gift will turn sacred."

I knew that directive already.

And to whom my thoughts would belong.

The young wolf of bronze fur I once cradled,

For that night, I planned to grant my mind whole.

However, as I approach the sacred pool,

I find another youth gripping my heart as well.

That golden-furred soldier, the goblet-bearing jackal.

The avatar of my lust.

As I soil the pool with my crude thoughts,

I grip, trembling, the stones I had picked.

Mine green eyes, mine child's blue,

I meticulously chose them with that boy in mind.

So, why is he not the only man here?

Why has my desire corrupted me so?

Onto the pillar, I lay my offering.

The light of the moon shall prove my choice foul,

My wish sinful, my presence undeserved.

As I raise my head to the stars, I pray:

"O, smite me Victorious Aolia!

You guard a man of sin! An uncouth mongrel!

Forsake me, My Lady! 

Me and my lechery!"

Alas, She cares not for my self-judgement,

Hers is a rule of truth and justice.

Moonlight shines on my beads,

Just as the monks foretold.

On the verge of tears,

My heart weighs in my chest.

A new supplication I now cry.

"O Gracious Aolia! Lady whom I heed!

I now beg for Your mercy, not dereliction!

For Your decree is sacred, Your word is fate!

Even if these feelings ail and hurt me,

I shall endure it all, with Your blessings!

O, Patroness Aolia, protect the man who will wear these beads,

and the sinful man who will give them."