the wizard king folds emerald fire crafting a wyvern that hungers for the sight of destruction
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roses and lilacs a kiss of glory by the grim face of oblivion
ghosts weep golden ichor their hymns soundless beneath a sky of raven wings
autumn noon the rain’s come to play with the warmth of draconic scales
the first spell uttered by these dark lips was that of unmaking the universe
grim roots of rot grasp the dagger hilt and tighten its grip on the drow’s pale flesh
in the dark of a forgotten realm an avalanche of mirrors reflect the blackness of mortal sins
how far the king has fallen feeding his pride on a banquet of lightless stars
the citadel is a beast of rubble and cogs flesh occupying the shadows and deep within its machinations is an ancient spark that dreams of sentience and conquest
jagged veins of bloodquartz gathers the sky tremors and stray lightning all in a terrifying pulsing rhythm
elancharan gunasekaran 