The writers who most sought to win--
The final four that never gave in--
These are the stories they chose to scribe,
The souls whose lives we now imbibe:
The Devil's Daughter
Forever abandoned, eternally lone,
So often adopted, but never quite known,
An orphan of sin, masquerading as sweet,
Broken hearts paving the ground at her feet.
The Fallen Deceiver
Once god of tricks, as man, he lies.
On gullible fools, his trade, he plies.
So don't ask his name, unless prepared
For property lost and mind ensnared.
The Weapons for Hire
Angry soldiers never die--
Vengeance burns too hot to try--
Boil instead alongside scum,
Trading pride for fiscal sum.
The Hosts of the Night
He drinks blood while she eats bone.
His face grins though hers is stone.
He crafts pranks, and she seals deals,
But mostly they just serve great meals.