But whispers seep where pride may tower
For kings still kneel to greater power

Yet oft he wakes in midnight’s pall,
To feel the blade’s unyielding call.
A wound that time could never close.
Where onyx thorns in silence grow.
So walls were raised and echoes chained
With veils of thought and fear ordained

“I will rule your kingdom true,
Where lesser lords would bow to you.
No law but mine, no sphere but one
Your reign is over; mine begun.”

The Eidolon sang through psionic light,
And carved his soul from endless night.
Now whispers trail where crowns remain,
The First King’s will — an endless reign.