All white-not by winter's breath, But by thrones that whispered death. No sword could strike, no spell could mend, When kings bowed down to a bitter end.

A rune-caster blind, yet cursed to see, Each flaw in fate's geometry. He bore the weight no heart should keep- Where science failed, and guilt runs deep.

So when the world no longer turned, And all he loved was lost or burned, Zephyr chose the silent door- A realm where self becomes no more.

A man once lived, then chose to fall- And rose again, with nothing at all. Not undead. Not divine. Just a will... no longer his mine.

Behind every crown, a monster kneels. Behind every oath, a traitor steals. And when the glyph of Varatia scream - The shadow king stands two steps beyond their dream.