The Hæleþ Song at the Dusk of the World

Mar - 04 2020 | By

World 11 is coming to a close and, as is common during the dying of the world, we have returned to refresh our minds, our skills, and our passions for the rebirth that is to come.

The fallen leader emerges from his slumber, raising the bonfire to cast light into the night of a dying world. As the wood crackles, he begins singing the song of old, and the people of our land stir in their slumber in response to its ancient words.

First rose the hunter, bow in hand, light in the eye, arrows quivered. Her feet ache for the soft loamy soil of strange and distant woods, her ears for the subtle crunch of leaves beneath prey soon to fill her belly.

The cook hears the ancient song, and her memory overflows with the smell of roasting meat, rising steam, and feasts shared among kith and kin. Her knives will be sharpened, her pans seasoned, and her cauldron stoked to feed a new generation of hearthlings.

The tailor counts his stitches, each a beat in the song and a hem sewn in magic known only to his kind. His ancient hymn empowers the young and old alike, bringing out greater strengths than they ever knew they held.

The quiet arborist rises from a pile of leaves like a sprout bursting forth in spring. Long has he slumbered in the soil as one of his seeds, waiting out the long winter for the time when kilns burned, smelters fire, and ovens bake all in time to the fruits of his labor.

In caverns deep, buried in a pile of black broken earth, two embers awoke to the distant thrumming of the tune. Soot-stained and calloused, the smith rises and sets flame to coal, awakening the hungry mouth of the forge. A careworn hammer rings against iron, adding its voice to the song.

As the voices rise together in song, others come. Some are ancient faces thought lost to time, summoned back at the end of things, while others are eager faces awaiting the birth of the next Sun and a fresh new world.

The hearthlands are calling, and the children have been called home. They stand side by side at the death of all things, waiting to greet the first dazzling rays of the new world’s first dawn.

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