Lanyth: The Red King

He rode a horse with wings of fire,

He broke the chains of Death and Hell,

And took the souls of mortal men.

He built a throne of jewels rare,

And took his place on high to reign;

And called himself King of Fire.

And when he passed each year and day

The sun would go out like a lamp

And night would fall where'er he came.

He sat within the flames of light,

Upon a jeweled golden throne,

And claimed for him the highest right.

The years rolled by in silence grim

Until an army rode against him,

A band of warriors fierce and bold.

They knew not that their cause was lost,

They thought that they were strong enough

To slay that dragon, deadly foe.

But no one ever returned alive—

No single man had lived that day:

And now that very same red king

Is riding down through distant days.

His sword lies broken at his side,

And blood drips from his lips and chin:

And though it's said the thing must die,

I wish the world could find another!

For if the beast returns once more

To set the world ablaze again

He'll make a fiery end of me,

As sure as anything can be;

For I shall be there standing still

To face that terrible flame!