Scribe's Emergence

The one had landed
Shattering into the eight
The eight making nine

So was the council
Formed a dimly lit mirror
To reflect a truth

While each had a role
To exist was something more
Here each had a voice

The man listened now
They spoke cautiously in turn
The veil weakening

"You step with purpose
But do you know your own ends
Do you even care?"

The last was a plea
But it was unclear for whom
"We are all tired"

I am tired too
But I know not how to rest
Still disconnected

"Inescapable"
A voice rang out from the dark
Oh my poor dreamer

The scribe carried on
Writing the ninth for the nine
So it was preserved



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