Nathrangking

Happy Birthday!! Here is to many more awesome years!!

# 46

Strand

Mountains wearing crowns of the purest crystal are alight with infernos ignited by ravenous flames birthed in the most secret places of the world. They dance and leap with a might that no deity could ever match for ferocity or intensity. It is as though each movement is made of the very essence of the primordial fire that spawned all others of its kin. These cannot be held in check by any prison and a roar that tears free ranges and tosses them into the depths sets them loose. Heavens are set ablaze and unending waves of teal and crimson purge all in their path. Laments and prayers fuse with the crackling music that is all that can be heard by those whose tears have unknown sources. Sunsets of gold and peach fuse with brushstrokes chaotic and yet inspiredly applied. None in all of existence can stand before it as it sweeps across the whole of the realms and for a moment all hope is lost. Beauty in carnage is a shroud fallen and shackles that are binding a reality lost for all time. Cities are rubble oceans are empty pits, and forests older than imagination sit silent as shattered shadows. Even gods powerless and stripped of name and kingdom slouch with vacant eyes among the ashes so full of vibrancy.

In the poisoned atmosphere of despair, a sudden pure note rises up and begins to pain its own masterpiece where a bitter master had worked. Slowly life pushes up through ash and death that has taken root as if it was always supreme. Specters so dry in charred bone return to life as their flesh returns and eyes once sightless have twinkles restored. Children walk again where once games of youth existed and bring with them ringing laughter. Sadness retreats when the birds lost sing once again and summons the cacophony of nature from the void that had taken them. Ruin is undone utterly and somehow that which rises is somehow more sublime than it had been before. Oceans flow again when rain falls and shines brighter with a truer warmth beneath a sun whose light is just a little bit mightier than before. Strength does not return to those who mourned after all was lost rather they are left among the mortals to understand if only for the first time. Those raging hands that tore down the songs that now sing fade not to the heights, but into the strains and brushstrokes of that which they would have destroyed. As the tune of creation reumes the quiet magic that rewove all settles into its place subtle and hidden as healer and sovereign.

A happy Passover and Easter to those who celebrate these holidays!!

And #45

Treasured Sound

Melancholy winds softly wind from a source deep in the heart of the mountains that ascend to the very heights. They bring with them tales whispered by voices that are alone in this realm as they are but shades of worlds once so vibrant that their glow would illuminate the plane from one end to the other. If countless legions were to attempt to remember the lost majesties that now scatter across the realms as so many treasures pillaged and hidden away. Cities once glorious paved with diamond and sapphire mosaics and gold overflowing beyond what any would have ever thought possible. Wisdom sprouted as forests that warded away the blazing sun with might unknown even to legions fashioned by hands soaked in divine lifeblood. Roads that once rejoiced and were without parallel now have nothing, but reverie to keep them company as the cold of winter comes. 

Now from the quiet places of the world comes an army, not like those that burn their way through the realm with rage leaving only death behind. What music comes from flute, tambourine, lyre, and the mouths of spirits made real and given forms truer than any that exist among mortals. Garments resplendent with warmth call forth vitality that restores the pathways to their former glory. The uncountable musicians revive the groves with their steps while magic gathers back those myriad sent away. Children sing now and beam with a joy that inspires the whole of the cosmos to join them in an untainted harmony. Oceans, skies, hills, and deserts bring the glory of the stars and sublime down to earth. Their leader wears a melodious crown whose wondrous form is everywhere and nowhere all flesh synchronizes with its resonating melody this new calm settles over all. 

Here is #44

Strains Reformed 

Waters carrying a blessing most divine rush upon feet of crystal through valleys and hills carved by hands long gone. The primordials that mortals once worshipped and relied upon to raise from the dust cities and empower them to wage war against their enemies have themselves gone to faraway realms of sleep. Where they are none can say, but the beauty of the rising and setting sun or the passing of the seasons is dulled so that they are very nearly void despite the icy magic that is keeping the land from crumbling into the most horrific sort of hellscape. Dregs from the very soul of this world are what remain. Tears are drenching the whole of the cosmos drowning the flora and chasing away even the mightiest of titans that would once have uprooted mountains at a whim. Haunting dirges weave a tapestry over the slowly dying world sealing a realm so lost that even the smallest spark of hope is long since snuffed out by the rising rivers expended by those who mourn. 

Up above despite the utter devastation a stirring of light dances in the shadows and begins to chase away the deep despair that is a shroud nay a second skin grafted into the very being of this dimension. It counters sorrowful screams with tunes first soft and comforting and then ever stronger and more invigorating than ever before. Each note lifts away agony and desolation instilling might in cowed kingdoms that now rebuild so much that has been forgotten. In the streets where rubble and whimpering existed now are the sweetest of songs that inspire and produce images of magnificence that seem too surreal to have ever been imagined by human minds. Radiant palaces, gardens, and every other manner of royal amenity become the stuff that ascends from the ruins of the old world. Aria that is above and below your musician is hidden yet their magnificence shall reign forevermore.