Picking up the gold scepter,
He struck once against the platinum circlet.
The air shimmered within and then raced outwards,
Carrying with it a soft tone,
That could be heard throughout the temple.

Deep in the heart of the temple,
Four men sat around a silver chalice,
Each wrapped within a cloak of shadows.
The floor they sat upon was naught but light,
Created for the sole purpose of hiding them.

One of the men, was an assassin of a long dead race.
The second, a desert swordsman with no equal.
The third, Master of the Wood for the past 10,000 years.
The fourth man, greatest telepath the world had ever seen.
All summoned here around a silver chalice.

A voice spoke unto the four,
Heed my warning, and heed it well.
A darkness has manifested itself in the land of ice,
And it shall swallow the world...
Unless you find a gap, in the past...

The voice faded off,
Leaving the four with words to ponder.
Their heads lifted as one to the sound of a soft tone.
Then they were gone, the only mark of their presence,
Were Rose petals, gently falling to the floor.

02/27/2002

Posted on 02/27/2002
Copyright © 2025 Dana E Brossard