Oh once, oh once,
Was this world so young,
And riders in the sky,
Fought the world-dragon’s spawn.
They rode winged steeds,
While shielded by golden scales.
And each wielded the magics,
That would determine their fates.
One bathed in sunlight,
Reflected on the moon,
To wield blade, bright.
Hers was the power of life.
The second clad in midnight,
Frost and death she wielded,
Magic of unparalleled might.
Matter shifting as willed.
The man came third, so says the Word.
Wielding neither the magic nor the sacred.
Striking with naught but sword,
Fuelled by boiling blood, so enraged.
Three stars fell, all entangled with their prey.
Two stars rose, bearing the world’s weight.
The third was vanished,
His blood-crazy spawn, banished.
Naught did his companions find of him,
But for his horned, devilish mask,
Softly singing a maddening hymn.
“The Mystery Of The Blood-God,” as translated by Silas Magnus, Scholar and Explorer, “Tales and Songs On The Forging Of The Heavenly Sphere of Elessia, Volume I”
This text is an excerpt from my next book. This is still the first draft; no revisions have been made for spelling, formatting or even basic Q&A.