The Curse Pt. 1.

As we rode from the capital into the wilderness, the sky stained with a profound nightfall, I looked back at the city. It was ensnared in mother Kesh’s profane lightning dropping like tears from her lunar eye that hung high in the sky. Bolts of a heaven-sent sooty detritus that washed the stone walls of the city with the texture of crushed pencil graphite and scotched ink. While I watched my body stiffened and my spine became a steeple to her newest temple. Her voice rang through my skull like a church bell with the recital of her curse:

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“To trace the stars as footprints in the sky

And through regent unite the world, but yet

Shallow waters run deep with words borrowed

So I great Kesh set forth to drain glimmer

To rend the sun divine footfall decries

Despite discord that claims timid regret

My moon shall halt heavens a grey-shine ode”

From "Dallathvos and other Stanzas" by Saint Tomevel Raleigh the Suitable