Shattered, were the dreams,
Along with the floors, the disconnected seams,
As the one in fire fell to shadows amiss,
As the one in ice succumbed to the abyss.
Into the shadows of the world, deep and untrue
As they looked upward, bidding farewell to that wave of blue.
Falling, falling, falling...

Break! the sounds of peace, as the ice poured forth,
Flames struck in turn, the crumbling debris he did torch.
The two blades clashed, in the name of lore,
The entities of fire and ice, now at turbulent war,
Glaciers over volcanoes, through the ebony land no one knows,
Where here is no haven or glee, nor an alcove for the free.
Clashing, warring, fighting...

Whirl! a tidal arc danced, with a howling sound!
Chaos, the maelstrom did bring!
But the flame danced and spun 'round and 'round,
Grabbing it's fin and as he did sing
A conflagration of his sovereign nation, shattering the ice beyond,
As the berg scattered, raining and reducing to a broken pond.
Scorching, shivering, descending...

Explode! the flames, begging for release,
The inferno embraced the frost's white crust,
Flames seeped into both of their mind's crease,
Thinking, yes! Power festers into a lust, if it must.
As the ocean fought this torturous chamber, he broke away,
Claiming that this broiling heat shall not make him sway.
Absorbing, basking, releasing...

Dominion! of which the serenaded water called,
Beckoning two blades of frost, they toppled down and flew,
The embers caught the hilts, leaving ice appalled,
And swirling the towers back, one swing false, the other true.
The clear edges clashed, and the true blade did prevail,
The false broke its lie and returned, creating an icy jail.
Tossing, turning, catastrophe...

Catastrophe tossed to and fro, diving further into shadow,
Glints of light only shone from debris, decorating the dead sky,
Beacons which only rose from stones falling amongst this show,
And from him and I.

Where am I falling? Where does it end?
What is this blackness, to where does it send?
Was I not supposed to go the other way, to ascend?
Where does the end begin, and everything make amends?

No! we shout our fearlessness at the night,
While giving in not even to each other in this final flight.
The mighty scorching wheel, embers appearing surreal.
The piercing arctic aurora, too, bears spiteful appeal.
As is the pain, the lost, the gained, and the zeal.
But this alternate reality, feels forever, forever real.
Wishing, hoping, dreaming...

An arcane duel, nature rending even darkness to dust,
The world above, one a faint light, now has disappeared.
An unstable cataclysm where even the wheels of time can rust,
A battle mutated to which flames were bitter, and ice could sear.
For few, there's little shock of how the strands of reality were now torn,
Because it is from Catalysts that Cataclysms as such are born.
Foretelling, observing, expecting...

Behold the entity, greater than the savages combined,
Eternal darkness, where Latrona's gaze pierces a soul,
To where the hidden guilts are what the shadows do find,
The distant spirit of dark minds now fulfills his role.
Pure and cold dusk, where the mind cannot win...
Illusions of the past, which now appear on a whim!
Reflecting, living, dying...

Solar! were the burning ambition shot stars,
A barrage almost impossible to dodge,
World order soaring both near and ever far,
The ice charade received, and countered with a lodge
Of sample bursts, but left in vain.
Harvested sin probing his mind again:

O flaming oath of the valorous, what reads your mind?
"Like a sheaf of ashes, from a searing heart of fire,
Brimming with feelings that burns ever brighter,
Than a phoenix who spreads their wings at noon,
I awake again with my eyes red, and my hair maroon.

Why do I breathe? Why do I fight?
Damn this forced life, I want my own, it's my right!!"

Lunar! were the icy respite dashing in every direction,
Riffs shot of the centerfold of crystals.
I see your heart, the white glass reveal reflection,
Speaking stories of despair once untold.
Stories forced and plucked out of the ambient mind,
Twilit hands threading apart truth, leaving lies behind:

O freezing vow of the departed, what says your heart?
"Like a tide of the moon, shifting on the cascade,
While reflecting on the past, on the ideals my Mother made,
I now see they're frigid, and with her memory, they fade,
Wishing for the conclusion of this endless charade.

Why do I live? Why do I cry?
Curse my wasted life, why is death so far yet nigh!?"

Can you feel the crisis, can you taste the pain?
The angst, the chaos, my soul being torn apart?
Falling, brimming with life, yet with nothing to gain,
And full of regret, while forever empty of heart.
Enlightened  with vitality, struggling to claim what's mine...
And much like my patience, we've lost the passage of time.

Attack, resound, receive, retaliation,
Rendering lies, beating without hesitation!
Back and forth, blade to bone,
Fighting oneself and the other, and all alone!
Fire to ice, Ice to fire,
Fervent might, a situation growing ever dire!
One, two, three, four,
Eight, twelve explosions, and a dozen more!

I care not! I'll cleave this jagged stone,
And launch to your back! Molten lava, actions I condone!
Becoming the living, breathing, hellish blemish,
Sticking to glacier's body! Melt the flesh!
Scorching valet, you'd give your life, I know,
Because I'll soon follow down to the demonized hallows.

No! Shields of water, become my skins,
It's not the end, not until I beckon the illusions,
The oppressive force will be met! Come, my dreams!
The dark abyss becomes streamy steams,
Misty mists covering the blistered breezes as they freely fell.

The insane flame run wild again,
A living cult of material destiny, the life they condemn,
Rendering the fabrics of tomorrow, as he rages down in meteors galore,
The towering inferno spreading his wings, clashing once more.
With white water, walking a waltz,
Drifting to a dance, daring death to deem him dead.
Drifting, endlessly drifting. . .

From one shard of debris, flames burst ahead,
Bouncing from one to the next, as if a game, a metaphor for the dead.

The chilly snake slithers across the dark crevasse,
Ricocheting falling stone to broken debris, their allies and enemies.
Indulging twilight, tempting fate, a tidal torrent becomes
A snowflake, then to crystal needles,
From solemn swords and spears, spikes and silver spires,
The frosty freebird flying freely, faltering feverish flames.
Falling. . . endlessly falling. . .

~ ~ ~

His hair flowed and glowed
With the same red flame
That surged within his flamberge.

~ ~ ~

His hair shined a chilling blind
With the true ice blue
That summoned strife in all life.

~ ~ ~


Had there not been a floor of landing,
This turmoil would likely have lasted a century.
The debris and stones etched away, expanding
As a second's light admitted a pious entry.

Beyond their dreadful descent,
Following the war of the elementals,
Of fire, ice, flares, shards of snow which refused to relent,
Meteorites, flakes, infernos, blizzards, explosions which broke their mental
State of mind, the world released its restricting bands.
Eons under Latrona, in its heart, beating with tension
The edge of fire found himself in the blackest of lands,
As if he were in an alternate dimension.

There was no beginning, where souls could lay on the ebony shelf
There was no finale, where lost lives could send
For this land he stood bright was where Latrona herself
Believed that Dreamer's meet their End.

But what of the ice? We believed it was I
to whom his destiny was bound.
Cold torrents, warm winds... the conflicting storm died
And my other was nowhere to be found.

Landing, a rushing current was summoned below
As if shouted in anger of my rebellious deeds.
The invisible cyclone pressed to an emptiness I very well know,
Pushing, yanking, swallowing at varying speeds.

Standing in the bowels of the planet,
Where nothing but a light shined above,
A red spotlight graced my body, and it
pulled me up, from a tug to a shove.
The world around me, black as night except for me,
An entire area around me, as if caged in incarnated doom.
I peered and there was nothing, far as the eye can see,
Illusionary floor, despite its form was flat as any room.

Around me, several more spotlights were cast it turn,
Of, ebony, viridian, of a separate, green of a shade more light,
Of cerulean, gold, and finally, of a midseason auburn.
All circled to my right, with a final light in the center, empty and white.

Where is this cold, desolate in which we dared to dive?
Is this still Latrona? Is the devious ice far or nigh?
Am I still sane? Am I still alive?
...Or am I meant to die?

From this despair, I was spoken to, by a voice as if of my kin:
"Yes," echoed Latrona. "you are to die on this unholy day.
To be relieved of all pain, suffering, despair, and sin.
With me... I promise you shall stay."