Opiephait, the Calm, fell from the heavens,
Never one to be assumed with such
an honour of his name.
Holding in his dying breath, expelling it upon
himself, a sun exploded momentarily below.
Dying proud, a funeral pyre of destruction below.
Now there was but two left, ladies of earth & air.
Pedanth, of Eternal Fire, and true to her standing
she glassed the earth with tears of sorrow.
And ash crept away, but no release was given.
For the elven warrior, whispered incantations,
Woven with hues of elemental synergy.
Cinders became formless ones, extensions of her will.
That night the earth wailed, for the wrath of the
last would make there presence felt.
They won the battle, and to this day
the shard desert is a reminder of what is possible
when two minds woven in grief can accomplish.
There resting place is upon the shattered mountain.
Where within frost glass they stand.
For when they are needed,
they will scorch the stars,
to help those in desperation.
