In a sacred grove,
of the city of Silverleaf
I sit alone in repose
Eyes closed
Lost in the reverie
Memories of my youth
Old companions
Long gone
Lost to wars and strife
Brothers and sisters, all

Dvalin, Thessa, and even
Wild Cheng-Dû
The paladin, Mojo, in Celestia
A human wife, my half-kin child
And my kin, in Arvandor,
Brother, Joshian, sister, Teal,
Stubborn Dabuk,
Now with his mother and father,
All at rest
So many gone

“Bactra, it is time,” a voice rises
Rikin stands before me
Ancient, grey, and stout.
“Time is an illusion,” I say
The dwarf nods
“Nevertheless,”
I use my magi staff
To stand, “The others await
And hope we don’t fall.”
We are legends now.

An army gathered to stand
With the last of us,
Heroes of the Tiger
Dabuk always hated that name
Jeddar stands ready with Firewalker
They keep our legend alive
As does my daughter, Krystelle
“We are ready father”
The portals open with a thought
“Kulan will not die today.”

But, maybe this time I will,
And join my kin in Arvandor