The Runic Template

Beyond the Eye of the Needle

Though lost in the Fables’ embrace,

A new torment shifted through space.

A vision, so clear,

Dispelled every fear,

To reveal a dark, desolate place.

Through archives of ice, sharp and keen,

Where knowledge was cold and unseen.

The form started to fade,

A new fate was made,

As the self grew less, silent, serene.

Then to halls where old oaths filled the air,

A re-forming, a silent repair.

With scrolls on the ground,

No true exit was found,

Just deep ancient wisdom and care.

But at last, on a cliff, stark and lone,

A dark desk on the edge, made of stone.

A void opened wide,

With no place left to hide,

A promise, now shattered and shown.