Quote:
I reached out my hand; England's rivers turned and flowed the other way.
I reached out my hand; my enemies' blood stopt in their veins.
I reached out my hand; thought and memory flew out of my enemies' heads like a flock of starlings.
My enemies crumpled like empty sacks.
I came to them in mists and rain;
I came to them in dreams of midnight;
I came to them in a flock of ravens that filled the northern sky at dawn;
When they thought themselves safe, I came to them in a cry that broke the silence of a winter wood...
The rain made a door for me and I went through it;
The stones made a throne for me and I sat upon it;
Three kingdoms were given to me to be mine forever;
England was given to me to be mine forever.
The nameless slave wore a silver crown.
The nameless slave was a king in a strange country...
The weapons that my enemies raised against me are venerated in Hell as holy relics;
Plans that my enemies made against me are preserved as holy texts;
Blood that I shed upon ancient battlefields is scraped from the stained earth by Hell's sacristans and placed in a vessel of silver and ivory.
I gave magic to England, a valuable inheritance
But Englishmen have despised my gift;
Magic shall be written upon the sky by the rain but they shall not be able to read it;
Magic shall be written on the faces of the stony hills but their minds shall not be able to contain it;
In winter the barren trees shall be a black writing but they shall not understand it...
Two magicians shall appear in England.
The first shall fear me; the second shall long to behold me;
The first shall be governed by thieves and murderers; the second shall conspire at his own destruction;
The first shall bury his heart in a dark wood beneath the snow, yet still feel its ache; the second shall see his dearest possession in his enemy's hand...
The first shall pass his life alone; he shall be his own gaoler;
The second shall tread lonely roads, the storm above his head, seeking a dark tower upon a high hillside.
I sit upon a black throne in the shadows but they shall not be able to see me.
The rain shall make a door for me and I shall pass through it;
The stones shall make a throne for me and I shall sit upon it...
The nameless slave shall wear a silver crown;
The nameless slave shall be a king in a strange country...
I reached out my hand; my enemies' blood stopt in their veins.
I reached out my hand; thought and memory flew out of my enemies' heads like a flock of starlings.
My enemies crumpled like empty sacks.
I came to them in mists and rain;
I came to them in dreams of midnight;
I came to them in a flock of ravens that filled the northern sky at dawn;
When they thought themselves safe, I came to them in a cry that broke the silence of a winter wood...
The rain made a door for me and I went through it;
The stones made a throne for me and I sat upon it;
Three kingdoms were given to me to be mine forever;
England was given to me to be mine forever.
The nameless slave wore a silver crown.
The nameless slave was a king in a strange country...
The weapons that my enemies raised against me are venerated in Hell as holy relics;
Plans that my enemies made against me are preserved as holy texts;
Blood that I shed upon ancient battlefields is scraped from the stained earth by Hell's sacristans and placed in a vessel of silver and ivory.
I gave magic to England, a valuable inheritance
But Englishmen have despised my gift;
Magic shall be written upon the sky by the rain but they shall not be able to read it;
Magic shall be written on the faces of the stony hills but their minds shall not be able to contain it;
In winter the barren trees shall be a black writing but they shall not understand it...
Two magicians shall appear in England.
The first shall fear me; the second shall long to behold me;
The first shall be governed by thieves and murderers; the second shall conspire at his own destruction;
The first shall bury his heart in a dark wood beneath the snow, yet still feel its ache; the second shall see his dearest possession in his enemy's hand...
The first shall pass his life alone; he shall be his own gaoler;
The second shall tread lonely roads, the storm above his head, seeking a dark tower upon a high hillside.
I sit upon a black throne in the shadows but they shall not be able to see me.
The rain shall make a door for me and I shall pass through it;
The stones shall make a throne for me and I shall sit upon it...
The nameless slave shall wear a silver crown;
The nameless slave shall be a king in a strange country...
That is the prophecy of the Raven King from Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. I've already got it in Aquénandi; it's in my next post.
