Ah, yes, I’ve heard tell of a land far, far away,
Mystical enough to put a stagger in a knight’s strut and sway—
A land where he can’t but fall to his knees, look on in awe
At the many twinkling lakes, the emerald glades, everything he saw.
And you wish to journey, young one, to such a wondrous place
That which requires a toilsome journey few would dare face?
Trolls, giants, and dragons stand in that long and weary path,
Foes among the most treacherous for their mighty wrath.
What, might I ask, calls and so spurs you into action?
Is it eternal glory, a chance to dance forever with the sun?
Or might it be something else—perhaps wanderlust,
To simply give yourself to its beauty as one must?
No matter—go on your quest, if that be your heart’s desire.
Who am I to extinguish the embers to your fire?
I only wish that you stay safe in this journey, my child,
For a pure soul should scarce be defiled.
Indeed, I have heard tell of this Yvanrel, Spirit’s Sanctity,
Refuge from all the woes and fears that this world be.
But, I implore you, if the journey itself is a great trial,
Will there be any spirit left to soothe upon your arrival?