Fantasy Artwork

                                                       

Cleanse my soul
I am not pure
Holy words
Are not the cure

Holy books
I dare defy
Without your god
Your life’s a lie

Cross, cross
I am blind
Cross, cross
Leave Behind
Cross, cross
Take my hand
Cross, cross
Demon’s land

Close my eyes
An empty room
Close my mind
Inside the womb

Unreal friends
They might prevail
These beliefs
Are fairy tales

Cross, cross
I am blind
Cross, cross
Leave Behind
Cross, cross
Take my hand
Cross, cross
Demon’s land

†† from D E Δ T H by Mr.Kitty     

2

“The Weatherstone.” The Archmage remarked, gesturing ahead of them. “Made by the druids ages ago, its secrets are known to few now. It protects us from fierce storms, brutal winters, and deadly droughts. Today, we’ll use it to call the rains down on the farms.” He gestured them to surround the stones, none within the henge save himself. Carefully making his way down into the basin, he put his old hand on the glowing orb, closing his eyes. Silence reigned supreme as even the wind waited on his command. A burst of lightning shot up into the clouds above without warning. They gathered angrily, then moved south to the desperate farmlands at an unnatural pace, dark with the storm’s potential. All eyes followed it, then looked to the Archmage, holding tight to his staff. He slowly picked his way out of the basin, drained and more ancient than ever before. He was silent as they left, but wondered… Who would take his place when he could no longer make this trip?

Description by Michael Lewis