Prologue: Jabon's Warning

Standing tall under streetlight spotlight,
framed in darkling, angled forms of
city blocks,
an umber wash of shadow, his cloak
riding high-collar 'round his ears.
He, the silhouette tenebrous,
raises his voice
under his silken top-hat's
shadow throwing brim.

Voice as feral thunder low.

"Raise the alarm,
oh ye of self-falsed fate.
Your child's eyes are set to be open,
Pray your soon naked minds will hold against
roaring truths."

Beneath rippling robe the sounds
of scales or feathers,
scarred and blood-black hands emerge
from rippling fabric,
fingers curled toward the starless night,

"Children hide your heads,
hold your hands tight to your ears,
press the sounds of these words out
of your minds as your
lids trap your eyes.
These words, these sights
this cacophony as I send
my will into you lives,
and here the Malice flies."

With a shock and sound,
his form disperses, converted,
upward as crackling pulse,
absorbed into the cloud-night sky,
rend'ring the unseen stars astray.