They were jewels, heavenly gems that pulled the light in. They were falling jewels, that melted into the dark recesses of his sleeves. Each was a sharp shard rending his bone and soul with their soft torment. The parallels he felt were lesser, pain and doom could not compare to this helplessness, they were feeble to this (his) witness to these death-wrought tears. "Qela." She buried her face deeper into his chest and he pleaded to the gods then, that they would take his heart to replace hers, if only to stop this. The gods were stone! "Qela." Merciless beings! "Sacrificed...the words miraculous escaped her trammeling sobs... for me...Ela

That deep place, like the beginning, it came from there, echoes of a soulful song, lithe upon the wind, softly threading their hearts. Such was their kiss. Their last secret kiss, for the next brought mist and shadow. The angels were exorcised from the insterspace and the shimmer of the flora was quieted. Even as their hearts stilled they knew to run and run they did. A whistle pierced the silent meadow. White thunder and flaming gold surpassed them. Rith came to a stop ahead. He was mounted with both haste and magic, then his gallops regained a ghostly speed, barely winning Narande's fading reflections. The pursuit of the mists was unsettlin

They said the blood of the gods has spilled into the sky from the battle of Meradhirion Lords upon Haethera. Once the Elder Gods have been overthrown then the shadow of the Meradhir will come to the nether realm-mankind.  It is why the gates were shut and the heavenly river has dwindled. But if the Elder Gods could not be victorious against this evil how can man be? These were musings of the prince of Naranduil as he rode Rith (short for Rithwarien), his white stallion with golden eyes and a golden crown. Rith was from amongst the Himmelon- the empyrean horses. They were strong and swift and only ridden by royalty. Their legend in the land t

Nalitheledus was also known as "The kingdom of Evenfall". Should you come to it by day, when the sun is at its zenith, it would appeared as an unearthly gloaming in the distance, as if the sky was sundered and bled. And should you come to it by night, then you would think the sun had become stuck upon the earth's girdle and the darkness elsewhere would never depart, for this twilight will forever be our only light besides starlight. It was most unsettling to beheld and many who set eyes upon it did not enter, so strong was its vista of the world's end. Yet Evenfall was, as the brave that ventured forward would soon find, the most wondrous of

It has been there, all my life. Unseen, but I can feel it. A door, that opens to the others... ...to another world, worlds, heaven, hell... Certainly, Only I can open it. Key bearer, obedient to only my bones and blood. Like its door, The key is of the same constitution, arcane. I feel it there inside, the door-outside, With the other side beckoning, Exciting the body... ...but troubling the soul.

The beat has died, Dimming lights where shadows hide, Made me hollowed for the others inside. Tears from bloodless well, Emptying auras like an evil spell, Left my soul roaming in an ossuary's hell. Vision like broken wand, Draining the miracles from living hand, Blew my fire away like moon's boundless  sand. Echoes in phylactery bones, keeping them warm, stir their tunes, Until I heard, once more, their ethereal tones. Stir the music... ...your warm bones hold, Sing the red lyrics upon my soul, Sing my lovely Eidolon, thaw my cold!                              

It came, like the first breadth of dawn, cool and sweet, soothingly enshrouding him. He touched his chest where it began to delve, deeper, melding with the fear, something he had not felt in eons..."It cannot be!" He turned from the ice cap peaks of the distant Aregean range. Even the cold held no solitude from this, from the bewilderment, the turmoil within. Yet it was indubitable! "The Overlord!" The beckoning came- as he knew it would-called with fire, fueled by souls, the accursed fealty summons of the imperial crown. "Fools!'' He touched his chest. A wind chilled in an iced cavern for a thousand years could not quench it. "Do they not

Grey eyes or blue, My smile, their virtue, Gracious touch, memorable kiss, Deeply felt and sorely missed. They are my cares, Their fugacious years, My temporal fears, To watch headstones, Rise above bones, Passing into the unknown, With grey eyes or blue, Broken smile, inimitable virtue, Ghostly touch, indelible kiss, Leaving me fragmented, amiss, Heart worn, forlorn, soul torn, As they mourn... beside my tombstone...

My virtues and my face, My faults, my twisted grace, Our souls or our race, Our sins, our special place, Are not to be accepted, or to hide, Are not to be approved, or to deride, But are our drawing breadths, our shadows beside, Neither curse nor blessing, nothing but conflicts, Our...my eternal conflicts, grappling inside.

He knelt near the edge of cosmic darkness, as if before a king, no, he was a king, as if before an emperor. He removed his crown. Why should a king remove his crown? It was a high crown, an ancient diadem kept by a purer magic. I felt it, my opened heart felt it, there was an older power here... ...something whispered, something stirred, a breadth, a summons, that opened an anomalous link to that which had not been called in a tomb keeper's aeon. It became soon a gyre of voices about the crown. They spiraled out and filled me with an inhuman melody that made my body became unbound, I was afloat upon the waves of its symphony, music rose to a