Turning through the flesh-like pages of a weathered compendium, you finally arrive at the title you'd been searching for; a short sonnet located near the end of a larger anthology of written poetry recovered from the labyrinths of a sepulchral library, its ruined foundation built on a mound of ash. The tome is marred by ancient dust and what appear to be savage claw marks, but this particular work remains mostly intact. You can clearly make out its title and author.


By Reyer Quixote

A plea for aid amidst the endless night

A phantasm roars against the heavens

Its chaotic dreams depicting its plight

Primal worlds ruled by its blithe, dark children

The darkest of which scarred this mortal host

His skin charcoal and cloaked in ancient dirt

Roaming his own green world like a lost ghost

Only the most clever of foes unhurt

Still the progenitor lies in silence

The insidious silence that consumes

Ends thousand-year reigns of savage tyrants

Seeks love and joy and instates deathly gloom

And yet, in bright, celestial glory

A stranger writes the end of the story

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