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Pictured is the cover and back cover of the zine. The back cover is the same style scribbled black vertical line, but less dense, and with a streak of red scribbled lines towards the top half of the page.

Page 1 and 2 of the zine. On the left, the page behind the cover, has a crude drawing of the Dogwarts banner in red pen. It is an almost fully red banner with three white triangles at the bottom edge. The text on the side of the page, written along the side edge, says “a hand made Renchanting zine by SBY.” Renchanting is in red text, as is SBY. SBY is circled like a signature. On page two, there is a poem, titled “how it ends”, aligned left, in plain black text. It says;
Let’s try this again:
You go into fruitless labor for fruitless/business for fruitless prizes in fruitless/games. No winning here, there is none./I know
that. I see it. I’ve seen it all ahead/of time, I see it clearly now. Play/stupid games, play stupid pretend. No/winning. I know.
But this time I’ll play along, stupid games./This time, I’ll climb up the hill and see/you there, and walk the other/way. I’ll know
better. I’ll leave you to it. A gentle/nod. Magic can’t save us, in the end./Love can’t mean anything if I know
-how it ends.

Pages 3 and 4 of the zine. On the left page, page 3, is a poem written diagonally down the page. Once in black, then repeated in red. It is titled “on you.”/”(on you)” and the title is both on top and on the bottom of the poem to be read with the rest. The poem reads, “on you. drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark (on you). drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark”
On page 4, on the right, is a sketchy drawing of a handaxe, colored in slightly with blue pen and red hearts scribbled around the sharp end of the axe instead of blood. On the handle, all caps cut off text reads, “Red winter is-”

Pages 5 and 6 of the zine are in all black ink. This is a two page spread of a poem titled “puppy love”. The title is horizontal down the middle spine. On the bottom half, under the large block of poem text, is drawn the roots and trunk of a tree. On the top half, on the right page, above the text, is drawn the top half of the same tree. The text on the left reads,
“I don’t fully understand what it is/about you that makes me want to/run and hide under the tall dark/oaks. Something about you makes/me scared like a child, not devoted/to some thing or another. Or another/thing. I don’t fully understand what/it is that makes my heart tug and/beat when someone else is near you./Like something or another, pulling/me closer.”
The text on the bottom half of page 6 reads,
“I don’t need to understand what it is/about you that makes me want to put the/wooden handle in your firm calloused hands./The hands I held in mine, planting row/after row of garden in the soil in/front of the shack your calloused hands/helped build, behind the walls your hands/helped me build. I feel it too. So I’m/putting this in your hands, now."

Pages 7 and 8 of the zine. On the right is a crude drawing of a red crescent moon with three black birds in front of it. On the right is a poem titled, “be still, be ready (steady)”. The title is written vertically on the middle spine again. In red pen, complementing the black ink text of the poem is a scribbled red cloud and red snowflakes. The poem reads:
and with the palpitations in/my throat i finally/understood what it would/feel like to eat a/heart while it was still/beating. i’m holding your heart in my hands/and swallowing it whole./you asked me to, and now i am, i’m/swallowing you whole.

Pages 9 and 10 are a mostly white page space two page spread of black lowercase text, that simply reads, very spread out, on a top left to bottom right diagonal, “oh./i understand,/now.”

Pages 11 and 12 of the zine are the first part of a four page spread of one poem meant to be read from left to right ignoring the middle spine. There is a long arrow at the cutoff at the end of the page, indicating that the poem continues. It is in black ink and says;
The wagon jumps --- not for joy. Executioner’s boots squeal/at the same frequency of the damn wheels creak. The same joy/peverted [sic].
I never understood an axe until I became one./Sharpen me,/deep repetitive motion, make me feel/good. How I touch/the scar around your neck and know/I made it --- mine, mine.
I smell bile/feel it in my throat too, and/I look up to see one of the men,/big and strong framed/an ox/of a man and gentle like one
Pages 13 and 14, continuing the 4 page spread. The rest of the text says;
has thrown up onto the road. Leaving it/pieces of him in our wake. I don’t throw up/even if I feel like/I left myself somewhere else. Becoming the axe,
becoming the axe. Long road home/to take it back. Bury me/in someone else’s/hand.
The title of the poem is revealed on the bottom right of the last page; “Long Live the King”. Above it is a drawing of an open eye and a closed eye in red ink.