🍂 The Samhain Siege and the Long-Arm’s Light 🛡️
The Sun had gone down, the harvest all bound,
The Wheel turned to Samhain, the year's sacred wound.
The Veil wore thin, a cold, silver shroud,
And the Dark SĂdhe stirred, emerging from cloud.
The Nameless Ones, Fomorians grim,
With chaos their banner, their vision set dim.
Led by Balor, the Blight of the Void,
Whose terrible Eye that mortals must avoid.
He stood on the shore where the waters run red,
To claim the rich land and devour the dead.
But the Hearth Gods had gathered, the Shining Ones stood,
To govern the darkness, misunderstood.
They spoke to the Earth where the shadows took hold,
And the strength of their Purpose was ancient and bold.
I. The Strategy of the Phantom Queen
First came the whisper, the cold, chilling word,
From The MorrĂgan, the fate-bringing bird.
She met the High King at the river's cold flow,
A tryst of necessity, where prophecy grows.
She claimed The Dagda, the Father of All,
To lie in the ford as the shadows did fall.
"O' Great Good God, I grant you the plan,
To scatter the foe and to save the clan!
I'll strike at their armies with fury and fear,
Confusion and terror to reign for a year.
Go! Marshal the Tuatha, let Lugh make the strike,
And the power of Chaos shall know its dislike!"
She promised the slaughter, the raven's delight,
And turned into darkness to hasten the fight.
II. The Good God’s Great Hearth
The Dagda arose with his club, wide and deep,
Whose one end brings ruin, the other brings sleep.
He rallied the forces, the Spirits of Place,
To hold the three realms in time and in space.
His purpose was solid, his power decreed:
To cherish the bounty, the life-giving seed.
He vowed, "Though the winter shall silence the song,
The life of the Hearth shall be safe, and be strong.
The chaos of Balor will pass and decay,
For the seed of the Sun is preserved in this day.
I bind to my will the wild wisdom of Night,
To ensure the return of the generative Light!"
III. The Strike of the Long-Arm
Then came Lugh, the Ildánach, master of all,
The hero whose destiny answered the call.
He saw Balor's Eye, the green, venomous glare,
That withered all life with a poisonous stare.
Lugh raised his own, the light of his spear,
And knew that the moment of destiny was near.
No battle of brute force, but mastery's grace,
He stood for the Order that governed all space.
He took up the pebble, and with skill true and wide,
He launched the great missile, where Balor could not hide.
The shot struck the Eye, a triumphant, bright sting,
And it burst from its socket, a horrible thing!
The gaze, redirected, with terrible might,
Fell back on the Fomorians, turning to night.
The Dark SĂdhe scattered, destroyed by their own,
And the chaos was broken, the seed safely sown.
IV. The Sovereignty of the Crone
As the Fomorians fled and the battle did cease,
The land found its rest in a governing peace.
For now came the Crone, with her staff of old thorn,
The Cailleach arrived, as the new year was born.
She walked from the mountains, the sovereign and grim,
To hold the world fast in the darkness and limb.
She spoke to Donn, who guarded the Gate,
"The souls of the wicked must answer their fate.
Keep fast to your House, let no Outdweller roam,
The SĂdhe are conquered, the Ancestors come."
She claimed the dark kingdom from Samhain to Spring,
To bury the chaos and hold everything.
"The Blight is contained, the Eye is now blind,
The cold of the winter is necessary and kind.
For I am the Winter, the Veiled One I reign,
I protect the deep order and banish the pain."
The Hearth Fire was lit as the New Year began,
The victory of Samhain, completing the plan:
The Chaos defeated, the Order secured,
The cycle of life in the darkness assured.
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