No parchment exists of the pact

No parchment exists of the pact;
Just cinders of once-vibrant towns;
Verdant undulating hills turned dunes of;
Ash;
The old ways;
Kept alive through hot-forged steel;
Fed with blood- grown dark- marked with;
Terror;
Whispering spirits left as;
Bards for any traveler;
Aghast;

No parchment exists of the pact;
Though under a pebbled mound lies;
Bones of an acolyte to a pantheon;
Kept alive through hot-forged steel;
Beside a hoard of coins;
Etched with every script in the world;
Laid upon a ship that once carried;
Men to glory;
Triumphant;
Now gone to conquer whatever;
Lays after the end;

No parchment exists of the pact;
Though perhaps-
at the end of a long trail;
Where winter knows no foes;
A great spear of granite lies;
Whose runes talk of a long-dead age;
Petrified;
No longer kept alive
through hot-forged steel;

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