Whispers rise, the night unfolds,
Feathers gleam, and truths grow cold.
In shadows deep, the mage did stray,
With spells unknown, he dared to play.
The circle drawn, the chant begun,
A pact was made beneath no sun.
Black feathers tore through trembling air,
Their crimson eyes a piercing stare.
“Why call us forth, young sorcerer bold?”
The mage replied, “To truths untold.”
We see the lies that shroud your skies,
The truth will burn, and kingdoms rise.
“Your master’s throne was bought in blood,
A power forged within the flood.
Each whispered spell, a stolen breath,
His reign secured by countless deaths.”
The mage recoiled, his trust now shattered,
The crows spoke clear, their words all mattered.
“Reveal the sins, or bear the weight,
To free the land, or seal its fate.”
With trembling hands, the glyph was made,
A circle carved where shadows played.
An ancient tongue, the spell did call,
From unseen depths, their cries would fall.
The council rose, their task was done,
They left him truths he could not shun.
“Speak the tale, ignite the fire,
Or let your silence feed the pyre.”
We see the lies that shroud your skies,
The truth will burn, and kingdoms rise.
Through sleepless nights, he wrestled still,
To bring forth justice or bend his will.
The council’s words, a haunting call,
That echoed deep within his hall.
Feathers fall, their cries remain,
The kingdom waits in shadow’s chain.
The mage must choose to speak or hide,
As truth and fate in him collide.