The Summoning of the Tidal City

They say the Magus came from a far off land,

That he left no footprints in the sand

but rather floated over the wave-washed shore.

He did not desire to take the time,

To speak to any living man,

He murmured low, beneath his breath

to voices only he could hear.

He conjured winds to sing us songs;

Songs of a future without care.

But when we thanked him for the song,

he did not seem to see us there.

With three crooked fingers in the sky,

He wrote his name in fiery strands,

and night descended from on high

encompassing all our tracts of land.

Within the night he brought,

A whirlwind churned,

And in this wind a fire burned,

that swept across our towns and fields

and soon sailed out to sea.

The typhoon sucked and pulled and strained,

it pulled the sea back seven leagues,

and never was one drop of water lost,

from the mighty storm’s infernal grasp.

When the storm had gone, and the sun returned,

The Magus took his fingers three and painted

a picture of a dike, to hold back the newly parted sea.

And behind the dike a city rose, a city gleaming in the light,

but in the light, what shadows endured were born of a deep and terrible night.

And central in the city, a fortress tall

Flying silken-black flags with red-roses adorned,

built for the Magus himself appeared

that he might live above us all.

The Magus first came many years ago,

he brought only grief and care and woe,

Though he promised us a future and a peaceful life,

his vision was empty, his words hollow.

We wish for the Magus an equal fate,

to the one he has made us endure.