A boldened king
Shall take his stand
In a kingdom to be broken.
The fate holds true
For whistling winds’
Prophecy was spoken.
The southern prince
Will turn to face
The fort of his own land.
Though he stood tall
He’d surely fall
And perish by Earth’s hand.
In his absence
His place is claimed
As to the Earth he’s bound.
And much like his kingdom’s future,
True,
His body shant be found.