The Ember Crown of Forgotten Gods

in the hour when silence devours the sky,
And constellations tremble like ancient lies,
A wind awoke from the bones of the earth—
Carrying whispers of a time before birth.

There, beyond the veil of mortal sight,
Where shadows feast on fractured light,
Stood a throne of ember, cracked yet bright—
A relic of gods who fell from height.

They were not dead, no—never gone,
But sealed in myths the ages spun;
In runes engraved on mountains deep,
In oceans where the titans sleep.

A girl of ash and starlit veins
Walked barefoot through forgotten plains;
Her name—unwritten, yet feared by fate—
The last of those who could unseal the gate.

She bore no sword, nor shield of flame,
But carried the weight of a nameless name;
For legends spoke in trembling breath—
“She dances on the edge of death.”

Through forests where the dryads weep,
Past caverns where lost spirits sleep,
She chased the echo of a dying sun
To find the crown no soul had won.

Guarded by serpents with sapphire eyes,
Who spoke in riddles, truths, and lies—
“Turn back, child, the crown is cursed,
For those who seek it fade to dust.”

But fire had bloomed within her chest,
A storm unchained, a god unblessed—
“I am the myth you failed to bind,
The reckoning your kind designed.”

The ground did quake, the heavens tore,
As ancient beasts began to roar;
The crown arose in molten gold—
A tale reborn, a prophecy told.

She placed it slow upon her head,
And woke the gods they thought were dead;
The stars bent low, the sky did kneel—
Reality itself began to reel.

Now kingdoms whisper in dread and awe,
Of the girl who rewrote nature’s law;
Not hero, nor villain, nor saint, nor queen—
But something far beyond between.

For myths are not what time forgets—
They are the truths it still regrets.