Lore of Pyromancer Crowley in the Shadows

Fine line between animal and soul
is made of flame. We wandered wide and found
the magic transformation, life to coal
and brilliant light. Dug hollows in the ground
and nurtured, kindled. Carried place to place,
borrowed from nearby villages. And when
we learned to start our own fires, then, the face
of magic looked upon us. Named us friend
and bid us welcome. Crow flies far to see
the heavens, hells, the shadow, plains and peaks
and all the changes wrought. Eternal, free
of human guile. She carries in her beak
a sprig of hyacinth, and lets it go
by riverbed, where it will root and grow.

Entered by: 0x3e17…7e9e and preserved on chain (see transaction)