In the side of Mount Crone, many a year ago,
Lestril lived serenely, far from the world below.
His home lusciously green, ample of prey and fruits,
Until Kartes collapsed, freezing the worlds very roots.
Snow and ice pervaded, all throughout his abode,
Causing plants leafy veins, to freeze down to their node.
And the gelidness spread, approaching Lestril’s nest,
Forcing him to travel, to find anodyne rest.
He flew for days on end, not a warm place in sight,
Then he spotted darkness, amongst the winter blight.
In the center shone light, where he swiftly landed,
Descried a defunct shape, of a creature stranded.
It flared as he approached, ablaze with scarlet flame,
Causing him a quick fright, before becoming tame.
The burning did not heed, devouring the thing whole,
Leaving only ashes, forming a fragile bowl.
Within a tiny gem, pulsating as it shone,
Emitting its last warmth, before turning to stone.
He could feel it tepid, soothing against the night,
Sensation sweet yet brief, forcing a perdured flight.
And onward he pursued, the cold stone in his grasp,
With its surface so slick, his paw had a tight clasp.
He traveled through the night, until the break of dawn,
Seeing a fresh dark blotch, with something red thereon.
He landed cautiously, feeling a sudden crave,
He watched as the thing dug, preparing it’s own grave.
Containing his hunger, he spoke to the being,
“What are you little one, and why aren’t you fleeing?”
The creature looked at him, its eyes brooding and red,
Glare smothered in darkness, with a voice as if dead.
“I seeked a place to sleep, where I can drown the blame,”
“I have nothing to give, so leave me to my flame.”
Not a word more it said, making a fiery cone,
Leaving Lestrin alone, with a pulsating stone.
Resigned he took the rock, after its light subdued,
Endless quest continued, seeking safety and food.
He spotted his next goal, ending the hasty flight,
Yet another dark spot, soaking the morning light.
Landing in the center, Lestril grabbed the creature,
Feeling its large muscles, a much admired feature.
He had an itch to bite, having no food in days,
But he held himself back, controlling his own craze.
“I am greatly famished, but you will get one chance,”
“Say if you are the one, that caused the frosts expanse.”
“We have failed at our job, nescient our plan was flawed,”
“We only wished to serve, protecting our dear god.”
“Eat me now oh wise one, so that I can be free,”
“It will bring salvation, to you and all of me.”
Without a moments thought, yielding to temptation,
Lestril swallowed it whole, quick dulcet elation.
Whilst going down his throat, his meal became hotter,
His eyes wide with terror, regretting the slaughter.
His neck burned from inside, dry across its whole length,
The gems in his paw glowed, as if to taunt his strength.
Without a pond in sight, to quench his rabid thirst,
He ingested the stones, act seemingly coerced.
They went down and then stopped, sitting atop the fire,
A cold and sudden peace, something he did admire.
But the stones stood in place, clinging onto his flesh,
And despite the anguish, his throat felt oddly fresh.
He cleared it with a cough, which let out some gray smoke,
And when he roared he felt, a small tender fire stoke.
Now armed with the power, to summon flame at will,
With it he searched the land, for simpler pray to kill