John Other
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Hints and Themes - A prophecy by the Bogyman
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 11:47:16 +0000 UTCOne thing I really enjoyed in writing the Red Suit was trying my hand at building a poem and even my own version of a Christmas Carol.
I believe I am over halfway done on the draft for "The White Suit" and today, I spent some time building the poem that outlines not just this book, but sets up several elements in future books. If you are interested, here is the poem, as spoken by Zygal, the Bogyman, in its current draft form:
When the bells of winter ring, and the crown of holly burns bright.
The world kneels to the red-robed herald of giving,
But in its place, frost, not joy, spreads like a false dawn across the earth.
And beneath the snow’s silence, the Master of Cold stirs,
His breath a covenant of stillness, his touch the price of peace.
He whispers through carols and candles alike: rejoice,
For every gift bears frost, and every love is weighed in ice.
Then comes the dawn of resurrection, the trembling earth reborn,
And the lilies rise where snow once lay in mourning.
Yet not all light is salvation, nor every rising pure.
The Master of Twilight gathers what the morning cannot cleanse,
drinking the half-light between faith and doubt,
Where crosses and stars share the same weary sky.
He is the keeper of the almost-holy, the dusk that swallows day.
And so, the seasons war, one wrapped in crimson mirth,
The other, crowned with thorns of dawn, is neither whole nor wrong.
For beyond both ice and tomb walks the true ancient foe,
Whose eyes know no warmth, whose hands turn all time still.
The Masters of Cold and Twilight play their sacred game,
While mortals' realms praise their feasts and call it faith.
But prophecy warns: only in the union of both lights, or their end,
shall the hidden evil be named, and the world made whole again.
