Beware, beware! The heralds sing, and all shall turn asunder. Havoc cries out from the masses, his halls will echo with the thunder.
Deep within the earth he lies, his rest, ethereal slumber. Until the hour of reckoning, we suffer, sit, and wait in wonder.
His serpent waits and guards the tomb, awaiting his command. A dragon’s flight, and righteous might, a beacon to all the lands.
He returns to claim his rightful place, the usurpers smite and sting. When shadow falls, in terror they run, from his return upon the wing.
As the long, dark night yearns for dawn, as fire yearns for fuel, the three shall perish for their deeds, the Piper, the Juggler, the Fool.
His wrath upon the wicked, his vengeance he will bring. He’s summoned home our lord and liege, he comes! The Crimson King!
-The song of Ermand, the Bard of Black Court
From the future fantasy novel, The Crimson King by Lyle S. Russell
Lyle S. Russell 