Isaveyl
In the murky gloom, they stalked the land,
Proud wardens bound by solemn hand,
In the fields in the hills they toil without lay,
But no light would give in the fog for her, they say.
Shades of blue and white flora dot the walls of the hall,
Brick of stone concealed the soul which did bawl,
Dim aura of Eidolon shine the path to the tower,
Where alone she was caught in her pain which devour.
She brushed her azure curls with fist unclenched,
While staring to the mists below with pain entrenched,
The steed of her pride moved across her soul with haste,
But it did little, the fury had long layed waste.
The room had a single blue candle twas lit in retreat,
It displaced the fog of gray, but was no hearth giving heat,
From her rear she recoiled and shirked that which no mercy gleamed,
Silver, long, marred, a mirror of black edges accosted her scream.
With chittering thought and overbearing sweat,
She turned, compelled to act upon the threat,
But in her visage was not the sight of her Grace,
Only the cold sting of her mother's face.
Nishant Shinde
Basquon Publishing Company
In the murky gloom, they stalked the land,
Proud wardens bound by solemn hand,
In the fields in the hills they toil without lay,
But no light would give in the fog for her, they say.
Shades of blue and white flora dot the walls of the hall,
Brick of stone concealed the soul which did bawl,
Dim aura of Eidolon shine the path to the tower,
Where alone she was caught in her pain which devour.
She brushed her azure curls with fist unclenched,
While staring to the mists below with pain entrenched,
The steed of her pride moved across her soul with haste,
But it did little, the fury had long layed waste.
The room had a single blue candle twas lit in retreat,
It displaced the fog of gray, but was no hearth giving heat,
From her rear she recoiled and shirked that which no mercy gleamed,
Silver, long, marred, a mirror of black edges accosted her scream.
With chittering thought and overbearing sweat,
She turned, compelled to act upon the threat,
But in her visage was not the sight of her Grace,
Only the cold sting of her mother's face.
Nishant Shinde
Basquon Publishing Company
This is an in character written book by my new character Nishant. It is written in both Common and Altalar, this story is freely available to the public and serves as an introduction to my character as an author. Thank you for reading!
