In days of deepest, darkest night, Ten will be born, for ascension or plight, The world will shake forevermore As the light escapes the breaking core Pyrrhia rocks, the oceans soar, As everything changes, forevermore. The first shall be shy and meek, One that knows that their life is bleak, They will come from the crimson nest, And live the days with no rest. The next will be a special case, With wings of sun and night, they will race. They shall perhaps live, and die, Without loving anything but the sky. The third, they will be very odd, As they will think themselves a god. On wings of sky they will soar, Living free forever more. Next will come one who knows, What time is and where it goes, They will fly back and forth, Stuck in the ocean that is the forth. Five will be the mystic one, Who knows how to have some fun! Made of shadows and of love, Magic floats high above, Helping and hurting the light that dies. The sixth will be the seventh's twin, Who goes around and back again. They will speak the language of all, From dragons to scavengers they must fall. The seventh with freezing, ice-cold breath, Saves the rest with their incredible wealth Eighth with flame spreading swiftly From their wrists which fade deftly The ninth, with a power they did not ask Stronger when working with another on many a task The last but by far not the least, The tenth will lead the campaign the least, And they will start to tame the beast, And may survive the coming trials Better than those who claim denial. Those ten will have the final test, And may prove them better than the rest. The final breath of one will tell If the world survived or fell.
Feel free to remix for theories!
