The Fomor Walks Sideways

Every Kind wears a face, Every face wears a name, Every name hides a creature, Every creature plays the Game. The shark beneath the water, The orca breaking through. The squirrel beneath the antlers, The stag that watches you. The mole that burrows blind, The rhino bearing weight. The wolf that hunts together, The boar that hunts alone. The elk beneath the softness, The ox beneath the crown. The buffalo beside it— Two truths that won't bow down. The peccary walks crooked, The saola walks unseen. The squid becomes the crab below, The snail becomes the dream. The masks begin to fracture. [CRACK — silence] And underneath the mask— Something older. [Deep drum] But one wears only one. No mirror. No second shape. No twin beneath the skin. The Fomor. Walking sideways Through every word That tries to name it. The Fomor walks sideways. The Fomor walks alone. Where every mask has two faces, The Fomor wears one bone. [Whispered, distant:] One... One... One... And beneath the masks, Beneath the Games, Beneath the creatures' eyes, Something small runs through the cracks Where all the rules divide. Unarmored. Frightened. Hiding where the borders fail. And behind it— A wolf. A tracker without stopping. A hunter built into the Game. [Music almost disappears.] Then from the dark: Orjalith... [Fiddle harmonic] Kreyborn... The name passes through the stone. Orjalith Kreyborn— The Chaos-Lord Beneath the Dark.