The Dullahan's Bargain

The Dullahan's Bargain

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The blackthorn bent beneath the moon's cold eye,

When came the rider none dare meet—

His steed's hooves struck no spark nor cry,

His presence stilled the heartbeat.

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Yet there she stood, her shawl undone,

No tremor in her steady frame.

"Good horseman," spoke the fearless one,

"I'd ride with you, and stake my claim."

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The headless turned his phantom gaze

(Though where his eyes might be, none knew)

"All who mount with me ride through death's haze—

What pledge have you to see it through?"

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She raised her chin like challenge thrown,

Her neck as pale as churchyard stone:

"My head I'll offer, flesh and bone,

Should ever I repent or moan."

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The whip that's flayed a thousand souls

Did twitch and coil like living thread—

Not round her throat its cruel length rolled,

But 'bout her wrist like vow instead.

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"Not yet," the hollow night-wind sighed,

"Your time's not writ in my dark book.

But when the final cock has cried,

I'll come for what my whip once took."

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Now some swear on their dying breath

They've seen her ghost at crossroads stand,

Her wrist still wrapped in braided death,

Still waiting for that phantom hand.

From the Unhallowed Records of : The Lost Books - "Libri Perditi"

Where even the horseman keeps his word.