Introduction to the first adventure

The Emperor is slain,
who no longer has a name,
the legacy of ancestors
by the Strike put to shame.
Who will tell the ancient tale
to the desperate and the frail?

Into the White, into the Black,
descendants torn apart,
estranged from one another,
with malice in their heart.
And it rains and it rains
and the wells are filling.

The Black and the White
in a murderous craze,
severing bonds of brotherhood
in so many ways,
and upon the face of the earth,
blood writes the first lines.

The Scepter we hid,
the path through mud leads on,
we carry the secret
though our strength is nearly gone,
and it rains and it rains
and the wells are filling.

Dryads and elves
have marched out to war,
between the mountains
ancient chorales soar,
in a whisper, the blades
of the grasses sway.

Ruined is Sirgon,
smoke rises o’er towers,
instead of a scream
my face I veil for hours,
and it rains and it rains
and the wells are filling.

Fleeing through the rain,
where can we hide?
Time is on the Dividers’ side.
Who will find
the answer first?

Phantoms before us
and a demon behind,
suffering trees
and dryad’s eyes we find.
And it rains and it rains
and the wells are filling.

When the Night Moth
into the darkness takes flight,
when extinguished fire
scatters sparks in the night,
a palm on the lips
muffles the quiet cry.

Only a single eye
opens for our sake,
the journey will be long.
Hope or disbelief to take?
Only it rains and it rains
and the wells are filling.

Omerin