There shall come a time, when the Earth is cold and the Moon is high,
and the pride of men doth turn the tide.
When war is near, from future not past,
the era of Peace nearing end at last.
One unnamed rises from the way,
taking his time, biding day by day.
A ghastly plan he does concoct,
Preferring patience and precision he hath will to wait
decades and leaders and turns of fate.
Through countless efforts and gifts of trust,
he learns the secrets that one must,
To do what he wishes, to take it all
To cause first the Masters, then Kingdom fall.
For one note, one piece of text misinterpreted long
He will discover turns out to be wrong
And with that knowledge armed, and well built force
besiege the Guardian for the proper course.
Against his will the Guardian reveals, tactics and ways
To give the unnamed's plan its final plays.
But what he does not know, he can not fore plan.
For you see:
The children ache, but are not all dead
Notice the Circlet does not sit on her head.
The Masters are chosen, by not by either side,
They are four from far down a tunnel ride.
What they must do, is simple and true:
Find the armor where the last Earth tree grew.
Then seek out the unnamed and strike before too late.
Thus do they seal the Kingdom's fate.