They say he walked from firelight,
With ash upon his skin,
A blade of bone across his back,
And fury deep within.
Not born of storm or gentle dawn,
But hammered in the night,
He came with eyes like hollow coals,
That burned without a light.
The slaves all knew his heavy tread,
It echoed like a drum.
No chain he wore upon his wrists,
Yet none dared see him come.
He did not speak of mercy,
Nor weep for those who bled,
But every boy he trained in war,
Would rise where cowards fled.
His voice, they said, could bend the spine,
And set the strong to heel,
Yet once they saw him face the dark,
They whispered he could feel.
A storm stood waiting at his door,
A curse upon his name,
Yet Grael did not flinch or fall,
He taught the dark to shame.
They built no shrine in Grael’s name,
No songs the bards recite,
But in the hearts of those he forged,
He walks with them through fight.
©2025written and crested ELHewitt All rights reserved.This poem is part of the StormborneLore collection.No part of this work may be reproduced, copied, or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations with proper credit.
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