A long long time ago, when Magic was awake,
The ones who gave us life, made a great mistake.
They bickered and they fought, for power and control,
But somehow they forgot, the planet had a soul…
The planet… had a soul.
The planet she fought back, with earthquake storm and flood,
And from her fractured fissures, she released her molten blood,
The Ancient Ones cried out in fear and shame “what can we do?
If we give up this planet, then our power’s surely through”…
Power’s… surely through.
The Ancient Ones were numbered five: The Angel on her Cloud,
The Spirit of the Forest in her Eldest Tree so proud,
The Giant of the Cold, the Ancient Phoenix of the Hot,
The Demon of the Darkness in his land of death and rot…
Land of Death and rot….
The time then came when peace was but a long-forgotten dream
As violence cut the people down and tore at every seam.
The planet, in her desperate state, was ready to give way,
And swallow the invaders up in one destructive day…
One… destructive day…
The magic of the Planet had been mostly lost and used,
The sources of enchantment had been battered, broken, bruised.
And all the magic left that people scarcely could control,
They wasted on their wars and wagered bargains for their soul…
Bargains… for their soul...
The Ancients set aside their petty differences at last,
They had to stop the killing and they had to stop it fast,
Collectively their magic, in one final, sweeping move,
Could separate these factions, and their power it would prove.
Power… it would prove…
They call that day the Splintering, it never was the same,
The Ancient Ones manipulate our lives just like a game.
They ripped us all apart, hoping to bring an end to war,
And now the world we’re left is far more Splintered than before…
More Splintered… than before.
Written by Chris Roberts, Lore Master
Original Steem Post @steemmonsters