* not mine, but I belive tis worth showing. its form a video game series titled ".Hack"* Once their magic land did glow With vagrant, ever-present light: When sprites would play in flowing fields, The twilight shining in their wings As they swam through silky seas of mist, Before the coming of the Wave. Untouched by fear or pain they lived Each minute with the utmost joy, Till the cursed Wave did rise Tearing through the dusky skies; Consuming light and dark in kind And leaving none to mourn behind. So to the East the sprites did flee Though burdened by the tragedy, The truth was all too plain to see: One by one their kind would fall Beneath the torrent of the Wave If none could stand before its gaze And somehow fill that endless void. King of light and queen of dark, Apeiron and Helba knew of one Who might defeat the Wave: A mythic beast long said to sleep ‘Neath the edge of the world’s end Sheathed by the Wavering Peninsula, A creature of the greatest might, The sacred dragon of twilight. Thus Queen Helba chose Bith the Black, Her strongest sprite, to join the quest; While Apeiron sent Fili the White To journey with them in his stead, For Bith and Helba thought it best That the king remain behind to rule And calm the ever-spreading dread Ere the dragon might appear. So as the three prepared to ride Through the aqua gate of Mac Anu A fourth did come by fate’s command: One part human, one part sprite, Alone for all his nameless might, He fell in stride with Helba’s steed As she wordlessly agreed, His will was worthy of their cause. Through the Fatel Bog they sped As onyx dust cloaked each in turn From which arose a blinding pall, A living shadow born to crawl Betwixt reality and mind, Till death, within them, was enshrined: Each was shown their comrades slain; Illusions of Skeith’s mortal game. Fili wept and knelt to pray, While Bith did halt in stunned dismay Ere turning back upon the path, Desires crushed by failure’s wrath. The halfling tore about the swamp Searching for the fount of death Whose noxious fog had claimed the lives Of those who’d stand against the Wave. Alone the dark queen Helba rode Remorseless through the baneful mire, Cursing the Wave as she progressed Bent solely on her noble quest, And as she went the darkness lifted Till she found her friends still living, Mounted on their stagnant steeds As if enchanted by some dream. Calling forth an ancient rune, The queen dispelled the evil bind; Thus Skeith’s hold was undermined And as he slowly evanesced Each realized they’d been possessed While Helba foretold a prophecy Of eight heralds with demons blood, Eight phases of the Cursed Wave. As the boggy mud grew dry Gyle Mountain rose before them, A deadly oft avoided peak; The swiftest route to Dun Loireag; For eons standing as a god O’er looking men with its facade While hiding at its center true, A molten pit of which none knew. As they neared the summit’s height Something waited midst their course: A Chimera of the greatest size With sleight blue malefic eyes Exuding lust for their demise; Then two, then four, then all around The aberrations capped the ground, Till hundreds stood in perfect stillness. Charging forth as one they came With rumbling fury at the four, Who held a circle back to back, Slaying beasts as they attacked; Though as the horrors met their deaths, Each vanished with its dying breath, Unfleshly as a wayward thought But for the bloody wounds they wrought. Thus the ceaseless battle waged: As each fiend fell another came Till Bith cried out in dire need, A lone chimera must be real; The others conjured effigies; Doppelgangers born to please Their lord and master as slaves, Incarnations of the Wave. Deeming true the dark knight’s words, Fili beseeched her allies three For time to let her mind’s eye see; Hence minutes passed as Fili prayed Ere she raised her longbow high And let a single arrow fly Piercing clouds upon the sky As though the shaft were blessed by god. Falling with a feather‘s grace The missile knew whom to embrace, And like a tear from heaven shed Smote its wrath on the demon’s head, Laying to waste the vile horde; As Innis’ power left the peak Six words of spite he cruelly gave: You shall never stop the Wave. Past the mount they traveled far Through Dun Loireag the highland town Till they reached the woods of Breade Where lay a mark for all to heed: A sphere enclosed by myriad lines, One of many travelers’ signs Known by the halfling doubtlessly: A labyrinth confronts beyond.