My tongue they stole,
my nose they maimed,
For secrets whispered and magic named.
They feared the truth,
that dripped like rain,
That power born in pain brings flame.
I bore no sword, I cast no stone,
Yet still they cast me out alone.
Bound and blind, I crossed the moor,
With curses trailing like wolves at the door.
“Let the thirteenth child suffer my fate,”
I spat through blood at the village gate.
“Let every line remember me,
When thunder walks and wolves run free.”
But still I mourn, though wrath was mine
The babes I lost, the bloodline’s line.
I gave the curse to stars and skies,
Yet I too break when a child cries.
Thank you for reading.
© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.
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