The First Adherent is Called to Protect

I. The Divine Rewriting

The forest breathes anew, with rhythms strange.
The runes reform—but not as once they were.
No longer locked in lines that never change,
They again flow, alive, with motion in their blur.

The Thane is gone—or changed—its name remade,
A Wisp of wildness but bound in shape by grace.
The laws are sung, not chiseled, not betrayed,
And time walks slow through this enchanted place.

Where once the stars obeyed a silent creed,
They now compose with chaos in the mix.
From one who dared and one who sowed the seed,
A world was born too subtle to predict.

Not law, not lie, not chaos, dark and grim—
But chosen fate, where stars and spirals swim.

II. The Return and the Flame

Now dawn unfolds where once the dusk had reigned,
A fire that sings, not scorches, through the skies.
The one who walks without sin, death unchained,
Now saves the world with grace in loving eyes.

They speak no rule, but shape with open hand—
A weaver, not a warden of the flame.
The world they touch learns to breathe and stand,
Not bound by fear, nor bound to stay the same.

Yet deep within the hills where chaos came,
The remnant of the Thane still lingers low—
Not threat he holds—the chosen devoid of shame,
Yet sly tormentor where light—love—truth fails to go.

Yet even chaos, when it chooses grace—dares to trust,
Can shape a world more lasting than the times dust.

III. The Tear Closes

The loom of light began to draw back in.
The wound that let both Fae and Hollow out
Now narrowed tight, as silence fought the din,
And order stitched its border round the doubt.

Some Fae stepped forth into the mortal lands.
I saw them vanish, thread by thread.
Still shadows slip through unseen hands—
to fill the world with what the dreamers dread.

Now, you too must come with me on my journey,

to choose destructive chaos or creative flame –

One of trial, of tears, and of self-discovery,
of Time, Light, Truth—one who knows the mortal name.

In the remnant of creation, I hear the call.

Death now conquered—grace summons all.

IV. The Voice of the Veil

Guard the night.
Speak the hush.
Still the breath.
Still the rush.

Dreams must walk
Through dark unshaken.
Call her now—
The hush-awaken.

Silena, rise.
By Wisp be bound.
Still the moan.
Still the sound.

Twilight bends.
The veil is thin.
Keep back fear.
Seal it in.

Bind the dark.
Still the scream.
Thread the hush
Through every dream.

Swift as mist.
Soft as rain.
Still the howl.
Still the pain.

Calm the sky.
Cool the skin.
Keep out Ravickle—
Nightmare’s kin.

By moon enthroned,
By stars made whole,
We call your light,
We call your role.

By ancient trees,
By dreamer’s breath—
Keep us safe
in sleep, from death.

V. Silena, to the Voice of the Veil

“I sit in hush, in starlight kept,
Where fear dissolves and the shadows slept.
My quiet eyes—unchanging flame—
Will hold the dark and hush its name.

I gather beams the moonlight spills,
And weave a web that dread catches—stills.
Each thread, a Wisp, softly sewn,
to cradle dreams when night has grown.

With moonwort laid in dewy trace,
With yarrow’s breath and lavender’s grace,
I conjure calm through every space—
A balm to bathe the mind’s dim place.

And in this hush, where silence stays,
I guard the soul from shadowed ways.

VI. Silena’s Oath Continues

I scent the winds with perfumes pure and clear,
Till even trembling thoughts fail to draw near.
Each fretful hue I turn, each fret filled thought I fold,
And still the restless secrets, that sleep might hold.

Now the forest bows to my sacred rhyme,
Its roots align with my song of ancient time.
Through twilight hush, in dreamscape I softly tread—
Where imagery takes shape, when mortals put to bed.

No scream shall cross this woven line.
No fear shall pierce what I design.
For I am hush, the watch, the keep—
The light that guards the gates of sleep.

So rest, while all the stars take heed—
I keep the night, lullabies are my creed.

VII. Night’s Purple Cloak

The waking world knows.

Lullabies softly soak

Like dew on the rose—

Wrap me in your cloak—

Lull me to sleep,

Let shadows be kind,

As I breath cool and deep,

In body and mind.

I long most to hear,

As bed stories are told

Of darkness and fear,

I’m safe in your fold.

A journey with you

In your purple cloak,

So tender, so true—

As I drift like smoke.

You, the keeper of gates,

Me, in my memory parade,

For peace gently waits,

and the unseen shall fade…

Thought no longer clings,

And time falls behind,

As night-braided wings

Fly through slumber refined.