Author:
Mossyra of the II
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Date Posted: 21:48:51 08/17/07 Fri
"When the skies blaze red,
And the distant sun turns black,
The unbreakable pact will shatter,
And a warrior will be lost.
Hope remaining fades away,
And time itself turns cruel,
For no hero is living,
That can stop this growing evil.
The ancient cloth doth fade,
Then vanish completely,
And with it goes the hope,
Turning freebeast into slave.
Only a hero now dead,
Long turned to dust and dream,
Can bring back the good,
And hold against all foes.
Where is the warrior,
That has taken new birth?
To the lost shore thorn,
Where he first lived.
Come from that shore,
He lives his life again,
Feeling slavery's chains,
Losing much that is close.
Until his final loss,
Drives him to the sword,
And he finds her again,
With the hope reknewed."
The red sanstone was smooth and worn from the constant river flow, but Rose liked it above it all the others in the stream. She hadn't known it had writing on until she picked it up, though. It was perfectly flat and rather oval, but the words were what captivated her. She didn't understand them, but they seemed . . . cold. Harsh. True. Tucking it into her pouch, Rose turned and started the long walk back to Noonvale.
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