A Gust of Air,
Blazing fires in the Rain,
The Burning desert Sun,
Nature is Blooming.
All Wind is stopped,
The Light is dimming,
The Clock is ticking,
A world is Shrinking.
The Witch,
The Prince,
The Heir,
The Thief,
The Rogue,
The Page,
Fallen in Combat.
Both Right and Wrong.
The Bard,
The seer,
The Sylph,
The Knight,
The Mage,
The Maid,
All live another Day,
How many Years?
A new Heir,
A different Seer,
A virgin Knight,
A fellow Witch.
Will they rise,
Or shall they descend?
Have they already?
The stars favor them.
A lost Maid,
A deceased Rogue,
A destroyed Prince,
A deceased Rogue.
They have failed,
Or have they succeeded?
They are no more,
But are very much alive.
At the forthcoming final battle,
Will there be more scratches,
More blood shed?
Will there be another Reckoning?
Or shall they unite in their cause,
The Tiers stacked,
The odds around them, good,
The Game you chose to play won?