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33 lines
1.8 KiB
Plaintext
33 lines
1.8 KiB
Plaintext
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When the verdant city was sealed by cloud and mist,
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When the unending snowstorms blotted out the clear moonlight,
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When all life and every interrupted story,
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Was pierced by that nail that fell from the azure skies...
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The priest's daughter gave the Starsilver greatsword to the hero from another land,
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In the howling wind and snow, her words could not reach their intended target.
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"This fourth fresco is prepared for you. Your likeness will forever remain on this wall."
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"For the sake of that fresco, and for everyone, I will wait for you, and pray for your return..."
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When the daughter of that snow-entombed city withered together with the grafted yet barren silver branches,
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The outlander destined to wield this sword to shatter ice and snow alike was far afield, chasing answers.
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Bright as the moonlight though she was, her final words, too, would never reach that wayfarer.
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"It's been a while since I last saw the blue sky and green grass. I don't know which hues to use to capture the landscape of thawing ice and snow that my father so longs for."
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"I wish I could see you again..."
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This was the answer he found—
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The hero ended his fruitless journey at last.
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Tainted black blood dripped from the blade of his greatsword,
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As he trudged through now-foreign snowy paths.
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But when he returned to the great hall of that mountain country,
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Naught but ringing deathly echoes welcomed him.
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"So even here, there is nothing left for me to protect..."
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"You who dwell in the heavens, you must wish for naught but to watch our ashen suffering here below."
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"In that case, then let me help you pass the time with a song of iron and blood."
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The outlander left the Starsilver originally meant to shatter snow and wind alike between the frescoes.
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Then, he descended the mountain to search for a land full of war and strife — a place he might paint red with blood.
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