An old tale was told,
from a time before
we touched the skies
and held the stars,
of the Cel’ghulae; those
forgotten beasts, rulers
of air and sea and void
in a time long gone.
First to wake was Ja-Terketh,
the whisperer of the rivers,
with flesh of scales and
a coat of noxious slime.
A crawler of the sand
and dirt that lie upon
the beds blanketed by
his rushing waves.
Secondborn in shadow
was Umat’Thryr, weaver
of the symphonious dreams,
that great harmony of
dreadful whispers in
the cold night unyielding,
her clammy fingers reached
to those once at rest.
Fear Belmadkardrel the
Irate, for his wings shod
in bone and with tendon
bare, skinless parched.
A wrathful glare so bright,
blazing to scorch the land
burn the forests and fields,
and boil the oceans dry.
And fourth was the terrible
Hyarvessin, the mother of
the ageless shadows that
lurk beneath the sea.
Crushing waves and sourceless
sounds borne of empty eddies
and darkness untouched;
these were her song.
Xr’kelorth, king in agony,
rode the skies at night and
saw all that never was with
wings of eyes ever-watching.
Father to those before was he,
and cursed thereafter was
all the world below in wake
of the vile progeny brought.
But to fear the most and wisest,
the mother and queen they knew,
who before the shadow was born:
Ner’ylaethess.
The infinite darkness past sight;
the reason for the endless silence
of space; and the tenant of all
that which was empty.
But all of the six now sleep;
the whisperer, dreamer, wrathful,
king, drowned and even the
void beyond measure,
now all lie dreaming in such
perfect soundless symphony,
locked in their sepulchre of
seething impenetrable umbrae.
Yet if sleeping still then death
has stayed its hand, perhaps
even so afraid to harvest those
without bound or bond,
and that which death can fear
and may birth utter unknowable
absence will never lie forever,
and rise when time comes to close.
That which symphonius dreams
and darkness sires will one day,
once the last day has had its dusk,
wake wreaking visceral vengeance.
When aeons pass and time retreats,
that which ancient sleeps will wake
to claim all that is empty and full,
all that lives and dies and screams;
substance and structure fail and
a horror free from all memory and
time stirs from slumber and rest;
fear the Cel’ghulae.