The Arcans: The Chosen One

Beware of the Arcans

Arcan, wraeccan, quvilgan
Call them whichever you want,
The meaning would spell the same in the end,
A deep word, outcast.

Outcasts they were, yes,
Different from the rest of us,
Claiming the non-existent word Arcan,
To rhyme with outcast,
From that oh-so-smart brain of theirs.

They produce things out of thin air,
And move static objects to life,
Some have physical conditions too odd to forget,
While others look normal enough, that is, until they get into your head.

These people are no superheroes,
Contrast to media, they're real.
They have the magic and superiors,
But will always be the the big, burdening deal.

They send earthquakes,
And blind you with shadow and light,
All because they haven't eaten their breakfast flakes,
Or lose in a mere fight.

They will creep to you,
Metaphorically and literally,
Through body, mind and soul.
They will pry your secrets and fears,
And spread it among your peers.

They have no fears in their kills,
Deadlier than vampires,
Savager than wolves,
For, if you still remember,
They have powers,
And no one is able to defeat their skills.

That wasn't until,
The Jade lands rise together,
To imprison them, and get rid of them for good.

For the lands of Easternia fought to the last blood,
While the lands of Southland starve them to death,
The lands of Westernly took away their greatest weapons,
And the lands of Northener push them away.

Together the lands unite,
To keep the outcasts tight,
Even until today, despite our break,
Every land agreed upon one thing,
The Arcans do not belong,
And their lives shall not be spared too long.

Little their numbers are now,
But deadly all the same.
For if you show even a single drop of mercy,
They will strike you with glee,
As it is in them naturally,
Born to defy the fair, the peaceful
Equality.