Nathrangking

Poem 28

Stolen Aria?

Monsters whose cultic worshippers are stricken by the carnage that burns across the mortal realm reduce the highest mountains to less than a handful of dust. Warriors wielding unrelenting storms, plagues, magics, and horrors reach for the crown that makes one a deity among deities. That song of creation that shaped all of the cosmos hangs on the precipice. The empress by whose will this tune plays keeping the universe intact watches the destruction and sends forth mortal armies blessed with the power to pierce primordial souls. All of these are torn apart as if by the wildest of beasts. Ever more powerful legions are lost while anarchy boils the seas and uproots all of the world. Weeping deafens everything and stars on high begin to burn themselves out until the anathemas that seek power smother everything shattering the hold of the sovereign whose incomparable countenance is ashen.

Upon a chariot drawn by the weakened music that she now sings with closed eyes, she descends to wage war. Flashes of light and power emerge with greater strength the longer this composition floats from her depths. One by one those who lust after the ability to be a deity among deities is incorporated into that which they would destroy. The darkness deepens the complexity of the weave that makes up the realms. Rot sublimes leaving no scars as all of reality awaits her rage to call down devastation in retribution. However, no more devastation is visited on those who cried until they could find no more tears. Laughter roars as all is restored to its former glory as though nothing had occurred. In the heavens, constellations are brighter than they ever had been before this nightmare was visited upon all of humanity. A smile and the lingering strains of eternity follow her to her throne overlooking a new age.