The ruler comes to Morrigan at night and asks for victory.

He asks which line will hold, which gates will fall and how much land the crown will gain. He speaks of the river, the hill, the harvest, the map and a name that will outlive a generation.

He does not ask what will feed the result.

Morrigan shows him more than the field. She shows houses with extinguished lamps, cold beds, a coat no one will wear and an empty chair at the table.

You asked me for victory. You asked me for land. You asked for the banner still high when war ends.

I showed you the table. I showed you the seats. You never asked what victory eats.

The crown counts miles and losses. The home counts differently:

one plate, one coat, one empty chair.

In the music, every new statement about victory removes a beat and a layer. Victory becomes clearer while the world becomes poorer. This is not Morrigan’s punishment. It is the physical form of a cost already built into the request.

She does not say that she feeds on battle. She does not bless the blade.

I do not feed on battle. I do not bless the blade. I only name the hunger inside the choice you made.

The ending turns ‘victory’ from an attractive outcome into the name of a creature with an appetite.

I only named the thing already seated at your table.

Victory.

Author’s lyrics from the final package. Audio comparison follows upload.

You came at night.

No banner yet.

No blood on the field.

You asked me

for victory.

You named the river worth the crossing. You named the hill you meant to take.

You spoke of borders, roads and harvests, of what the crown could gain by day.

You asked how long the line would hold. You asked which gate would break.

You asked me for the shape of winning.

Not once

what winning takes.

I showed you homes with lamps gone dark.

I showed you beds that would stay cold.

You watched the border move one mile.

You never asked

who would grow old.

You asked me for victory.

You asked me for land.

You asked for the banner still high when war ends.

I showed you the table.

I showed you the seats.

You never asked

what victory eats.

At dawn you dressed the choice in color. You gave the hunger drums and names.

The young went out beneath your emblem. The old stood listening to the rain.

A mother learned a different counting: one plate, one coat, one empty chair.

The map grew clean. The song grew louder.

The cost

was everywhere.

You called them losses before they vanished.

You called them numbers before they fell.

A crown can make a word look smaller.

A body

does not die as well.

You asked me for victory.

You asked me for land.

You asked for your story to outlive every hand.

I showed you the table.

I showed you the seats.

You never asked

what victory eats.

I do not feed on battle.

I do not bless the blade.

I only name the hunger inside the choice you made.

You think the price is mine because I dared to make it seen.

But every body on that field

was counted

before me.

You asked me for victory.

I showed you the cost.

The crown gained a border.

The houses learned loss.

You called it the price.

I called it the feast.

Now tell me

what victory eats.

They say

I demanded sacrifice.

No.

I only named

the thing

already seated

at your table.

Victory.

In plain words

The ruler asks for victory and counts the land he will gain. Morrigan makes him see the people who will pay for that victory, and whom it will continue to consume afterwards.

Countermyths

What Victory Eats

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