A shining cloud descended on the village
“Hail” he said “For I am Polarus, Winter’s son”
And from the village word was sent to the royal palace.
And from the palace an assassin was sent.
An inky pillar whirled into the village
“Where?” it demanded “Bring me to Winter’s son”
And from the village fled the shining cloud
And after him chased the inky pillar.
The shining cloud dove into a cave, speeding deep below the earth
“Winter” he called out “It has worked, I’ve lured it behind me”
And deeper still a great black being stirred
And after the cloud rushed down after the pillar.
Just as the inky pillar was about to capture the cloud, the two tumbled out into a cavernous opening
The black being roared “Halt” in a voice like shattering ice
And again it roared “Traitor”
And it spat unimaginable cold towards the pillar.
Though the pillar was itself a being of bitter frost, Winter was colder still
As the being’s blast tore through the pillar, it began to freeze in place
And as it solidified it let out a last anguished howl
And it toppled over, the crash of its impact echoing throughout the caverns
Winter called for its servants, and a bony man rushed into view
“Bring this wretch to the deepest hole, and leave it there” Winter commanded.
And for the first time in history, Winter left it’s cavern during summer
And it set off like a rabid hound towards the palace.
-Excerpt from Mónos’s First Collection of Cantripped Poetry and Seasonal Psychopomp Rituals.