Alchemisland

Money in a tight band

This isle’s Tai Pan

Fighting the dual. The new perhaps?

To fashion a glorious wishmaker we must take your hand

A falchion slash any valorous lad worth his dash should stand.

The last palace’s muted collapse in a hazardous, sneering badland,

Not an ear around to hear the ground finally cleared of human veneer.

Binding the duat,

For the end is near

And the sun ere needs a new path.