The Star That Would Not Bend

When goblins darkened shore and glade, And iron scarred the newborn land, The short-lived folk and elder kin Together made their stand. He fought beside their fragile ranks, He learned their songs, their fleeting ways, He walked with them through dawnlit fields In Cerilia’s younger days. He showed them rivers silver-bright, He showed them groves of ancient flame, He thought their hearts were green as spring— He thought their oaths the same. Oh Rhuobhe… Why did you turn away? We bled beside the sons of men In hope of brighter day. Oh Rhuobhe… Why would you not see? It was not love that chained your soul— But wounded memory. But forests fell beneath their hand, And axes bit where stars once shone, The trust he placed in mortal hearts Was splintered into stone. He begged them cease their hungry march, He spoke of balance, root and sky— They laughed at him, they turned aside, And let the greenwood die. So bitterness became his bow, And fury tipped his spear, He joined the Hunt with silent wrath, No mercy, doubt, nor fear. They named him then the Manslayer— And wore the name with pride, For grief had hardened into steel The day his hope had died. Oh Rhuobhe… Why did you turn away? From friend to foe, from star to storm, You cast the dawn to gray. Oh Rhuobhe… What did your anger buy? You swore yourself to mortal hate Beneath a mortal sky. Then came the Whisper, smooth as dusk, Azrai, lord of veiled deceit— He promised ruin for the race That trampled sacred feet. When truth was known and masks were torn, The Sidhelien turned aside— But Rhuobhe would not loose his oath, Nor cast away his pride. “A human god?” the elders cried, “A lie, a shadow’s chain!” But hatred burned too fierce in him To hear the truth in pain. So when the war at Deismaar Shattered sky and bone, Azrai’s dark and dying spark Claimed Rhuobhe as its own. Ash-pale skin and sightless eyes, Cold orbs of silver flame— No longer elf, nor wholly god, But Manslayer became. Oh Rhuobhe… We call your name in vain. The star that would not bend to grief Was broken all the same. Oh Rhuobhe… From friend to endless foe— You chose the god of mortal spite And would not let him go. Oh Rhuobhe… Across the ages cry— You did not fall to Azrai’s lie— You fell… because you would not forgive. And so you chose to die.