I think I know where this one goes, or at least which world of mine it belongs to. It was not one I expected to have a prophecy. I hope you enjoy it whichever world it came from.

Then wakes the king from slumber
Like a babe new-born
And challenges the darkness
And ushers in the morn.

He comes out from the depths
Of flame and solid stone
And takes his first free breath
And finds himself alone.

No memory yet whispers
In the recess of his mind
No history yet lingers
Where he may find.

A tainted land awaits him
One that used to be his own.
The curse tries to break him
And he faces it alone.

Yet the strength of kings is on him
And the land still knows its own
And new power yet awaits him
A brother of soul and bone.

The curse harries all their path ways
And strikes them as they sleep.
Until they find a refuge
In a vaulting mountain keep.

The curse howls, storms, and batters
At the mountain stay
And takes the land by inches
Stealing hope each dismal day.

Yet still rests there waiting
The strength of the dwarven throne
And the sleeping king has awakened
And shall come into his own.

Deep King copyright © Heather Strickler 2024 All rights reserved