Ashes and Embers：Dragon Princess

In barren epochs beyond our fading lore,
The Ancestors' fierce wrath shook the heavens' core.
Great birds of cold iron cloaked the sky in flight,
And burning spears pierced the sun’s blinding light.

The sun fractured then, into stars without name,
Raining down on the earth in a deluge of flame.
The great land erupted, torn open in roars,
As the boiling deep swallowed life on the shores.

Black rain wept for months from the soot and the cloud,
White snow bound the world in a frozen, grim shroud.
To this very day, on the northern ice-shore,
The realm slumbers deep in a winter evermore.

The wise King Tyriand gazed up at the night,

And raised the first bastion upon ruins of white.
He taught the lost nomads to plow and to reap,
And carved a ten-month order for the land to keep:

The Sprout and Awakening—the seed’s fleeting breath,
The Blazing Sun’s Bloom—summer defying death;
The Harvest and Wither—where warmth takes its flight,
The Wasteland and Frost—the cold rain’s bitter bite.

When Silence and Evernight draw their dark veil,
The world sinks in terror, its courage grown pale.
The dwellers below clasp their hands for a spark,
While guards on the Long Wall draw steel in the dark.

For the demons of old from their ice-tombs awaken,
To feast on the dawn of a kingdom forsaken.