Look to the tundra,
To the breaking chill in the killing cold.
Here is the path unmade amidst the vents and rents,
The poison of my people set let loose.

You cannot see it,
You cannot feel it,
You cannot know it.

You have seen us here,
Us progeny of forgotten rape and slavery.
The Brood borne by Darkness across the void of worlds,
Bled on the stone of Death's own grave.

It cannot see us,
It cannot feel us,
It cannot know us.

We lived and dreamed,
But we could not escape the wurms of our nightmares.
Blind sky swallowing fathers that seeded us,
Calling up one to devour the gods.

We see it,
We feel it,
We know it.

The Breaker was and will be,
So says The Flame in our veins.
The Earthmother gave us a balm,
But the ash still lingers upon our tongues.

The serpent eats its tail,
The Truth is there was never a cure.
The Brood will birth its end,
The Cycle to begin again.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Lupar, in the year 829 AF.