Once there was a rune existed,
Magic and power, consisted.
Given to the world of Rhapsodia by the goddess exalted,
Only to be seized by a witch abominated.
With the rune’s power, the witch ruled,
With an iron fist, Rhapsodia was doomed.
Presiding over life and death,
Executing with each breath,
The balance of nature, under threat.
Plagued with incurable disease,
Blanketed by eternal darkness,
Rhapsodia was brought to its knees.
To the goddess, mankind prayed
And with unwavering faith, their hopes conveyed,
Thus, a savior rose to their aid.
He, who the goddess favored,
To the dawn of the future, he ushered.
Rising to his call, mankind clamored,
Under his banner, humanity gathered.
Under the accursed witch’s command,
The flames of war abound.
But mankind endured their plight,
To rid Rhapsodia of its blight.
Alas, the accursed fell,
Darkness vanquished like a spell,
Yet the witch’s lust cannot be quelled.
Drawing in the last of her strength,
A curse was uttered under her breath.
The mother rune, shattered,
Its pieces, scattered.
Rhapsodia was torn asunder,
Yet in its wake, magic came under.
And this power, the shards garner...