Night of the Impaler

In honor of Voivode of Wallachia and his armed forces They whisper my name in the dark… Not as a man— But as something worse. I was born in fire, baptized in war A cross on my chest, and a blade at my core They came for tribute, they came for my throne But I answer to God—and God alone I bow only to the lord, they will get no knee Their empire vast—but it won’t take me They marched with numbers, banners, and gold But I bring a terror no army can hold Ride in the night — no torch, no flame They wake to death and curse my name Steel in the dark, no mercy shown I claim this land — this land is my own They call me a shadow, a ghost, a curse A thing that walks where shadows burst But I am a man — and I still bleed A servant of God — in word and deed [Verse 2 – Night Attack] We move like silence through their lines A thousand blades at once align No drums, no horns — just sudden death The last thing they hear is their final breath Tents erupt in screams and fire Confusion feeds the growing pyre They strike at shadows, they turn on their own Their mighty host becomes overthrown They cannot see us — they cannot know Where death will strike or where we go Ride in the night — no torch, no flame They wake to death and curse my name Steel in the dark, no mercy shown I claim this land — this land as God’s own They call me a monster, a thing unclean A nightmare stalking in between But I stand for Christ — I take no throne That is not given by God alone Morning comes… And the field is still… A forest rises… On iron will… Thousands stand where men once breathed A warning carved for all to see Let them behold what fear can build A kingdom of silence — a valley of the killed Not rage, not madness — but purpose made A message sharper than any blade Let every soldier who marches near Feel God’s judgment… and know their fear They say we don’t sleep… They say we don’t die… They say we drink blood… They say we don’t cry… Let them believe it — let terror grow Fear is a weapon they’ll never outgrow Ride in the night — strike like the grave No fear of death, no soul to save We are the storm they cannot see We are the end of their decree They call us vampires, cursed and damned But we are the sword in God’s right hand And when they march, they march in dread For they know… They walk with the dead Pray for dawn… Pray for light… Because we come… Again… Tonight.