Sundered was he in the womb of disdain,
Seed of two hatreds, of iron and rain;
Split was his cradle ’twixt tusk and fair ear,
Child of no hearth-fire, sworn unto fear.
High did he climb by the ladder of slain,
Hewn from the marrow of scholar and thane;
Hallowed the bones that he set for his stair,
Hungering upward through incense and prayer.
Ash fell as snow when the Second Sun broke,
Altars lay silent, and empires lay smoke;
All of the banners were blackened with flame,
All of the chronicles swallowed his name.
Shadow-crowned warlord, unblessed yet adored,
Seeker of godhood by blade and by word;
Silent he stood where the firmament tore,
Swearing the heavens would bar him no more.
Half-dead, half-living, in memory chained,
Held in the rot where old ages are stained;
Hushed is his breathing, yet restless his will,
Hunger unquenched in the hollows of still.
Ever he drinketh of mortal desire,
Envy and pride are the oil of his fire,
Eager are princes who feed him with ore,
Edged in red iron and promise of war.
Red are the sands where his heralds conspire,
Rivers of steel for the dark of his pyre;
Ruin is bartered in markets of flame,
Raised are the armies that march in his name.
** Alexis orates this two mornings after his dream of Raiden