Destined Bower (Part IV): The Voice of Darkness

The greatest of an ancient and glorious race am I,
Cast down into shadow in days of wars long gone by.
Shorn of face and form were we impotently exiled,
Our great works undone and our temples defiled.

For millennia we were enslaved by aloof elven lords,
Circles of power, sigils of insight sapping our souls' cords,
Malice for masters grown where but disdain had dwelt before,
But also grudging apprehension of their own immortal lore.

And then the base beasts comprehended walk and speech,
But where we were riven upon increasing our reach,
The Fae took them under wing and so Man was taught.
(At least what they were capable with such puerile thought.)

While similar in seeming, Man and Fae were vastly unlike,
Man humbled by mortality and bearing but small insight.
And soon in them we saw a weapon we could taint and bind
Though all that bespoke them truly was a fecundity of kind.

Hence we set upon fashioning a war between Man and Fae,
To bend and break, weaken and cast Light into disarray.
But beyond idle skirmishes the Fae would not commit force,
And rather than destroy Man set upon much different course.

As battles were evaded and our vengeance went unsatiated,
(No greater mournmorsel flows than the lamentations of the dead!)
I raged and possessed until understanding forged some release,
The Shining Hosts had elected for exile to wrought lasting peace.

A paltry Fae court deigned to guide the few heedful Men,
And these did we cull with taint, hate, and religion,
Driving Man to violate those that could have saved them,
Destruction and ignorance become Man's bestial anthem.

And so to this moment of succulent consummation,
The Lady's mature form ripe for my spirit's possession…
As gods again shall we walk through our usurpéd bower,
Once destroyed with finality is this harmony of Fae power.