THE LOST SCROLLS
Deep within the crevice of night, there lies a place of naught.
Never seen in standing place, but felt so oft in times of grace
Some would spurn its treasured vaults heeding of the price to pay
Yet I chance to test the fates whose eye of dread I will embrace
-The Evernight approaches. These words no longer spoken and much of its essence lost to us. Fate is no friend I fear; her judgement bleeds us like a scythe. My time is short, but what was once a hope has become our doom. I pray that my words will hold the tide that comes.
Egatnaiht, All Father.