Woe of the land, bane of the kings, long forgotten amidst cinders.
lies amongst the hearth of wrath, laying the bricks for a darkened path.
much fear, much pain, the poisoned hearts are much to blame, and none shall pass the iron mask.
yet crude, yet fierce, a bright shadow through them shall pierce, ruling a realm of solitude.
and then a tree will come to be, sinking madness from the high sea of this land of infinity.
and cries and fear, and tribulations, and so much more, and all shall burn...
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