The Prophecy

Last flower who blooms in midwinter
And blossoms in deepest glade
Whose petals, though fresh, do fall,

Thy sundering shall not splinter
The few who stand unafraid
E’en as war’s shadow casts its pall.

Yet tempest’s heart has empty center
Lest one shoulder a hallowed blade
Bound fast to mouldering wall.

O! Lost child of darkest winter,
Daughter of uncrowned maid
Your truth echoes in stained hall:

“In foul act did fell spirits enter
To ruin the kingdom you betrayed
Ere you heed the dark Queen’s call.”

The Prophecy

Dakkon LaReineElan