The Prophecy of Andrapaal
By: Timothy Law

Those of the forests beyond have become their salvation.
In the land between lands they have made their new home.
The hounds are baying, hungry for the blood of their slaves.
The master demands a great sacrifice.
The winds blow like tongues of flame where the grains of sand are slick with blood.
What it is they value so highly, the fortress gone, sunken away.
The winds howl where the hounds return, come home to lick wounds clean.
For now the young race are freed and safe, enslaved no more.

Peace, sweet peace.
The baying of the hounds is faint.
Almost it is silent enough to cause the young to forget.
They who be yellow as the sun play, youthful abandonment.
Red as blood is blood forgotten.
Only those of ancient blue recall, remember, rewrite.
Those who save have faded away,
Drift beyond to the realm of dreaming.
The city sleeps, content, at peace, the stones are silent.
No longer do they give thanks, no more celebration.
The black bird nests waiting for time to change.

They send forth a single wave, a number of great strength and power.
The stones shall sing to the tune of the great star.
Then the free shall howl at their loss, their babes shall weep at the baying of the hounds.
Suffer in silence, the foolish shy away.
They turn their eyes away from the lone voice calling all to arms.
When the voice seeks eyes will open, ears will hear.
There will be a great roar.
It will be the voice of the lioness come from the western lands.
Make welcome the one that searches from the east.
Until this day arrives they must let the sounds of the falling rain sooth them.
In their time of freedom they should not forget what it was that came before.
Be aware of the coming of the black bird.
To dismiss such a cry is to encourage the past.
The rains will not fall forever.
What came before shall come again.

The stones have crumpled all away.
Fires will burn within your hearts.
The flames shall gift all with love and hate alike.
Emotion felt both for the bird encaged,
And for the one who was released.
The blue bird shall weep blood,
So too shall its red brother and yellow son.
A song will be sung that remembers all which came before,
It shall be a song to herald that which still must come to be.
Ho! The black bird spreads wings of earth.
Its twin has fire burning where a heart should be.
The spirits play with the lioness.
The die rolls through the hall of Haven.
The thunder rolls.
The storm sings.
A city sleeps.
Nothing is eternal, but the goddess Herself.

The prophecy of Andrapaal, first, fourth, eleventh and twelfth stanza, translated by the sages of the Kingdom of Thuraen 514th year


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