Broken and battered,
listless;
The shattering of
Hope and Nightmare
whirling in
blackness;
so They,

Them unamed,
the amalgams of
essences
enormous
and chained.

Relations strained
Brother and Sister
estranged,
both to and from one another.
All from one Father,
and so, no Mother.

The Deceiver, a savior?
Dubious; a test,
but perhaps it's best
lest the continent be wrest-
ed from our hands by the claws
of a race from Drak mountain,
a fountain
of blood
and a parade of gold.

I'd sooner offer servants
maybe sell the Other out;
How do
the Manu
enjoy undying now?

Their burden to bear
let the Dreikathi take them.
Conversion, immolation?
About time to forsake them.

The question's been too long
"Is it right, is it wrong?"
Let the dragons decide
which tastes better.

I can't speak
for any
but myself
when I say:

I've been many things,
but no more a Rellyw.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Midsummer, in the year 303 MA.