Isaia (Bardic)
By: Wivylma Posted on: March 12, 2008
Half in an icy, marble cave,
Half submerged in ocean deep,
Isaia lies in fog and haze,
Precarious, and without sleep.
Within the twisting chambers dwells
The queen Denaye, raven hair,
Her face of woe and sorrow tells,
Lady of Ice, fierce and fair.
Older than she is by ages,
Xeyana is her priestess wise,
Knowledge unmatched by the sages
Fills her voice and hands and eyes.
"Ah friend, it burdens me, the pain!
It rests on me and Denaye!
But still my path is clear and plain.
Now swiftly do what I will say:
Oil to feed the hungry flame,
A dark and secret, ancient room,
The souls of two young children claim.
Save us through their fiery doom!
Thus the ritual begins
That will shelter all this land,
Cleanse us from our tangled sins,
Great Mother, aid me with this plan!"
Half exulting, half in tears,
Xeyana sends us off to find
Children playing, free from fears,
Knowing not what's in our mind.
Leading them, two trouble-makers
Through the icy caves of town,
In frozen streets the wives and bakers
Greet them as they walk around.
As we lead them through the ocean,
'Round us silver eels swim,
Soft blue lights in scattered motion
Sparkle on their pale skin.
Through a hidden stony notch,
We escort them, taciturn,
Turn the basin, stand and watch
As both the screaming children burn.
Flesh in flame and bones in ashes,
Fire contracts and will not burn,
In our golden chalice crashes,
To Xeyana we return.
The chalice Xeyana demands,
She chants in tongues unknown and soft,
She holds the ashes in her hands,
The light engulfs her, spreads aloft.
Half triumphant, half resigned,
She tells us that our work is done,
Her plans have gone as she designed,
Gods appeased, and balance won.
Day by day, the factions argue,
The elders' council still contends,
The queen still looks on suitors two,
And both refuse to make amends.
Still the ice is frozen deep
Still the ocean lies below,
Eerie structures harsh and steep
And lofty marble columns glow.
Still unrest calls to Xeyana,
Seeks balance through her ancient voice,
We march across the frozen tundra,
Adventurers who heed her choice.
Willingly we take her orders,
For our pleasure, or for gold,
Within Isaia's frozen borders,
We obey that priestess cold.
There she sits, her face serene,
Xeyana, with gifted sight,
With heart half-frozen, the unseen
She sees with piercing eyes so bright.
We often stop the children's play,
Still, Xeyana cries for more,
Another omen comes each day,
Another doom she must abhor.
Screaming children, factions cunning,
Thus we keep their balance fine,
Thus we keep Isaia running,
Half submerged, half in sunshine.
Some might value balance less,
Too high some may deem the price;
Not Xeyana, faithful priestess.
Not Denaye, Queen of Ice.