The Prophecy Of The Three Sisters

The Lord of Chaos shall arise in the talons of the sky.
The lady of sorrow's lover dies, flaming streams as she cries.
In her morning she shall find comfort in the arms of night,
and from their union shall be born three sisters with Isati's sight.
Though born upon three different shores, they face into a single sun,
and each receives the sacred words, speaking of heroes yet to come.

The pillar of night will fall upon the fields of Morda.
The hooves of thunder will be washed by the lady of the bay.
The gates shall be overcome by the very sea they hold back.
His might shall roll out before him, as a wave over the shores,
drowning his foes in darkness and withering their sight,
and so his kin shall march unabated over field and moor.

The eye of hate shall look upon the children of parthus,
and so shall their fates and destinies unfold.
The loathing lady that feeds the hounds of fear shall call,
and her malignant masses will rise from the tide to answer.
The woodsman in the wild shall relent his axe for sword,
and join his kinsmen's chorus to march to war.
The hammer of two heads shall bang upon the doors,
calling out their ancient foe to face them once more.

As these dark tidings shall come to pass,
the ancient seamstress shall weave her last.
Her dying hours into the night,
weaving the patterns of her sight.
Kings, priests and sages all,
divine the meanings of her scrawl.
The call for heroes heard by all,
come forth and answer the deities' call.

Seek you three sisters under one sun;
mothers, daughters, sisters none.
From each receive a deadly quest,
a cryptic fortune, a mortal's test.
The prize of victory to each shall be,
a weapon dipped in the blood of the sea.
That as the blade that slew the sun,
will bring final death to the eternal one.

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