The Wild Kings wait patiently on the aether, always watching for the burning towers to fall and incinerate the massive briar prisons that contain them. Their time will come soon when the earth revolts from it's many wounds They are the old gods of chaos and higher order Their tears will dissolve all that was purified Their voices will melt all black to stone When they sleep their dreams will give life back in glorious revolt, dark and rich with the stench of death returned, fertilized, pregnant and formless When they rise light will fall from their eyes quaking, breath warm, potent and realizing Awake, Silent... Sentient