Once upon a time there was a king that was being cornered from all sides, being cornered and chased by his shadows past. Fleeing away in fear this king ran and ran through his own once dearly loved orchard at midnight. But now he ran and fled unwanted and forced by fear unseen or unheard of before. He ran towards his small temple that bore the elder door, the elder door that always bore that escape he never wanted to visit evermore. “I had thousand men where are they!”, the king screamed while running away fleeing those shadows that shifted from tree to stone towards him, yet none heard his screaming besides himself even his voice full of hatred and might that had filled half of Nevermore where once guarded many a man in gladden gold armor that shone brighter than the sun that didn’t shine anymore, “where are my man!”, the king cried finally reaching his temple of yore that in truth bore no door.
There behind this beautiful orchard that once bore the sweetest fruits of Nevermore the temple of yore stood tall and pride -- yet now the beloved temple of this king burned in blue flames, the flames danced and climbed ever high reaching the night canvas sky above where no stars were shining nor the moon -- the moon that hid away among those dark laden clouds of fear and sorrow -- filled foul mists swirled ever around that held back hope and faith inside, “where are my man?”, the king cried deeply falling down on his knees for he knew, he knew the blue flame of devil kin that bore madness and death in mind.
“Once I walked through here merry and loving, for I had many a man who guarded my beloved temple then, then”, the king cried and heard his shadows arrive around him that bore no sweetness in mind. The king then turned still kneeling towards those shadows that was only his in mind. Seeing a thousand man with no face -- gladden with black spears and golden armor, “no”, the king cried seeing his own army that left him behind.
The army began it’s death march -- forward towards there weak and broken king that cried deeply in different kind, with black spears risen they closed in on there fragile king that laid weeping on the edge of time, lost in time the king cried there and then and gave up on facing his fears of mind.
From a branch not far away there sat a blue mockingbird that watched the once great king with greater mind, till it felt the terror arise -- till it felt the flame of elder flicker dangerously weak inside.
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“Weak”, the small bird muttered and flew ever high up only to plunge down again towards this broken king that laid weeping behind, lost in his own made ocean the king wept and drowned in different kind.
The bird plunged heavily from between rumbling dark clouds yet it landed softly before the broken king and opened its wings of elder kind. Yet no bird it was when it spread its wings of greater pride but a greater king of a different kind -- spreading his blue elder wings wide open this greater king thrust it’s bright blue sword deeply before the man that laid broken behind, blasting away those foul winds of shadows past while lightning roared deeply from above and yonder beyond. “Weak!”, the greater king boomed this time and with mighty wind of wing and wrath he blasted those shadows before even more -- behind. The gladden army fell backwards away from this broken man that drowned in his ocean behind.
“Remember!”, the greater king boomed and thunder cracked lighting the dark canvas sky before -- it made the the greater king realize. Yet the king still laid weeping behind deeply lost in time while his faceless shadows stood up once more, more fiercely than before they marched forward this time with more hatred in mind, hatred for king and its greater kind. “Remember, please remember the blue canvas of time”, the greater king muttered towards himself that still laid drowning behind. There and then just as he had finished his sentence a black spear flew in time towards this king that was barely alive, it pierced and killed the greater king that stood tall before at once yet it slowed the black spear of death that bore a malice of different kind, till the drowning man surfaced and screamed in a different tone that brought a different time.
“Weak!”, the king boomed and everything vanished around, no greater king was seen when the king that laid behind rose up once again from depths of his mind, no shadows of past were cornering him, no blue flame was burning his beloved temple then. There the king walked through the orchard that once bore many a shadows of past that still haunted his sorrow laden mind. Yet the king endured and survived and stood tall once more before the battle of kings and their fights against lost battles against time.
“Just a bird it is”, the king muttered staring at a branch not far away that he once had climbed as a child, “and the magic it carries inside”. The king walked and walked through the orchard that once bore the sweetest fruits in mind, “yet an orchard of malice it is now”, the king cried and walked through his fears of mind. clutching ever tightly the blue book of yore he walked, where he had once drew the blue bird upon, the blue bird of elder kind.