The Tower of Babel was destroyed, salted, and burned down.
Black blood flowed across a starry sky woven from lies.
Filth from the abyss burned in nuclear flames.
The sons of the Skyhawk joined hands in war,
wielding the Sword of Promise.
The traitor's plan to bring about the Skyhawk's extinction was thwarted,
and he was killed by the tribunal he had always avoided.
Armor and radiance shattered and fell silent together.
Twisted life and the victorious dust storm also fell quiet,
torn apart by raging metal and unwavering resolve.
The prediction engines of an ancient age had long since become obsolete.
The seals on the tomb collapsed,
and the king who cried out and rose once more was slain.
The stars trembled with hope once again.
The servants of the dragon and the lion scattered like sand, then fell to their knees before that throne,
bowing before the dragon and the lioness,
for both had been suppressed to death.
The lord in the tower fell into despair as his vision crumbled.
For a lost crown could never be regained,
and pawns who had once been kings would never surrender without a fight.
Nor could the dead be brought back to life.
