In Irithyll did Sulyvahn
A cathedral city decree
Where the Boreal river ran
With water chilling cold to man
And mystic as the sea.
The place in magic winter froze
And skyward-reaching spires rose
Midst plazas silver-gilt with frost
Where grew incense-scented flowers blue and white
And here were ghostly trees with ice crisscrossed
And regal statues all throughout the site.
But oh! Those deep romantic chambers beneath
The gothic spires soaring to the sky!
Savage places! Strange and holy underneath
The sacred crescent moon and aurorae bright,
Full of beautiful monsters all damned to die!
And in these chambers, within their dark lowest parts
Like black flowers growing in bloody hearts
Lies the bottomless, distant, brooding Deep
A darkness beyond the dreams had asleep
With countless abhorrent things resting there
Their gothic forms haunting beyond compare
In the cool waters with dark power aglow
Swim lovely monsters in the turbulent flow.
While elsewhere meandered the city’s cold streets
Streets strolled by the Irithyllian race
They were black-haired, bright-eyed, and pale of face
Upon the pavements their graceful walking beats;
And from their lips Sulyvahn heard from far
Unholy voices prophesying war!
The moonbeams of the hanging crescent
Floated down onto the snow;
And aurorae luminescent
Hung in the air all aglow.
A damsel with a sacred chime
In a vision once I saw
It was Yorshka, the crossbreed maid
On her chime gentle prayers she played,
Singing of lunar miracles.
I heard in visions only
Her symphony and song
For Sulyvahn had locked her cruelly
In a tower high and strong.
From her tower, Yorshka fair
Would look on Sulyvahn’s device
And all who saw Sulyvahn there,
They all would cry, Beware! Beware!
His bewitched swords with their cruel glare.
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And dare not look upon his mark
For he hath crowned himself with Dark
And seen and learned the Deep’s great vice.