The Wild Hunt

It was a scene to behold in the annals of history,

A scene that revitalized the belief of paganism,

Of gods and spirits conceived many ages

before the heavenly Star of Bethlehem.

A scene that foretold the calamity

Of pending war or the rupture of sickness

Rooted deep within the preternatural sense,

First documented by a departed storyteller.

It began with a faint pounding of feet,

Often mistaken for the peals of distant thunder,

Neglected by almost everyone who heard it.

One young man on a frozen road,

Traversing the great realm of Jord

In hope of seeking out irrefutable proof

Of the existence of the forgotten gods

Had decided on ignoring this faint pounding,

Until its faintness had changed,

Replaced with an awesome cacophony

Of howls both man and animal alike,

Bringing his restless soul upwards in fear

To the darkening path of the sky-candle,

Where an army of fearsome helmet bearers

Rode upon the backs of ancient wild beasts,

Traveling in the cloak of flashing darkness.

And in the head of this racing army

Was an ancient man as old as time,

Wielding about a pale light of battle,

The sword's radiance serving as a holy beacon

in the growing crowd of noble warriors.

Paying no heed to this young man on the frozen road,

The children continued onward,

Racing through the heavens in the darkness.

But this benevolent giver of gold,

The vanguard of this great army,

This massive force of man and woman alike,

Looked down upon the great expanse of Jord,

And stared into the eyes of the young man

Like a loving father looking down on his child.

And in that long moment came a vision,

A red herring of a time long after his,

Where three times will crows crow,

Beginning the darkest of winters

And the saddest of summers seasons.

From those summers and winters

A great calamity will rage,

A disaster of violation and betrayal,

The murdering of brother and sister,

The unholy shaking of great mountains

The fetters holding down ancient beasts

Becoming undone as the path of the moon

Is split into two, both wolf and serpent

Arriving on the ancient battlefield of the gods

As the Sun and the Moon are swallowed whole.

A great storm of swords will rage as both

God and Jotunn, Kings and Giants, will

Fight one last time on that ancient field,

That field where the wolf will swallow whole god and man,

Where Serpent shall poison the mightiest of heroes,

As a final fire swallows up the heavens and the earth

And The Twilight of the Gods will come to pass

The young man throws his head back in great pain,

Ridden with fear and madness from this vision,

Plagued with the illness of wonder and curiosity.

He looked up again to the stars,

To get another glimpse of the man in the skies,

Met with only the clearing of a great storm,

The distant pounding fading away into the darkness…

FIN.