Stag Prince

The stag prince and his thorns

Sat upon the Throne of Horns

His hand upon his stubble chin.

He looked into the misty sin

That his younger brother had foretold

And contemplated what must be said

For the leaves were growing old

And soon his father, the King, dead.

A soldiers query could submit the eerie:

Shadows in the light, and surrounded by blight,

The death couldn't be any more dreary.

He could quest for the best in all the land

Hiring mercenaries, witchery, and knights,

In hopes of finding the beast of the night

Across that unhallowed hands of sand.

Deep in the crevices of the ground and dirt

Surpassing the fossils and layers of pert

Are the bellows of the deep abyss

Where the haunted river streams called Styx.

There the stag prince could find his key

To the troubles boiling in the kingdom's tree

So entering the light he would try

For his father's soul he would buy.

"Everyone has a quest in their life that they wish to conquer. What is yours?"