The Prophecy

Delivered the 1st day of the 560th revolution.

The Prophecy as delivered by the Western tribe along the Astris Mountains.

Written verbatim by the Imperial Recorder.

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Born from the flesh of the Earth,

The Child carries the laments of the River,

The eye of the cursed,

The blood of the lonely,

The bone of the hidden within an arm's reach,

The heart of the calm within the chaos,

The mind of the humors of four,

Rests in the bosom of Alyvia.

Those in control,

Will unify the Land and the River,

Protected by the ones who curse the Motherland,

The Gyres spin to raze the fields to grow anew,

Or the Rivers churn till tyranny takes all the seed.