The sleeping sire shall awake in gloom;
To be his brother's appointed doom.
Slumber-king, with shadow-king, duel:
Two siblings forced to fall or rule.
Crying mischance, they fight their kin,
Whom they love, yet must slay to win.
Armies clash and red blood runs free
Without mercy, or entreaty;
At bitter end a blade is raised...
And dropped. The other stares amazed;
No drop of royal blood is spilled,
No thirsty sword's bloodlust is filled
by the other; yet fell shadows strike
And the proudheart falls pinionlike
Into his sibling's arms to die, in gore;
To be a puppet nevermore.
In these twain, world's weird is woven,
C'Don's patience parted, cloven,
As he began it, he shall end
Bring all to the First World again.
White city crumbles; dark tower torn;
While All ends, Sagin's scheme is born.
There my sight fails; but Sagin leers,
The sight gives me pause; chills my fears.

--So ends the book Gunnos, relayed to the scribes of drowned Tehut, in the language Titala, and later translated into Honrala.