by Nick Gisburne
The stinking prison, buried below sight
Bewitches any human who would dare
To travel to this poisoned place, to fight
The greatest of the fallen Fey: Voltaire
Descended from disgraced, demented kings
The magic of his lineage is old
A changeling, stripped by angels of his wings
Abandoned to the mountains, to the cold
His crows surround a corner of the cage
And threaten those who serve the other side
The symbols of a secret, silent age
Are branded, deep, their curses worn with pride
The challenger, the mightiest of men
Will never see the sun or stars again
