Upon a rock of ages past,
there stands a tower, tall and vast.

Across a sea of teal it looms,
above the dust-red sky it blooms.

An ancient place of mystic art,
disciples live a world apart.

To learn the secrets all but lost,
through ravaged time and dearest cost.

They hold a hidden strength within,
to mould the world behest their whim.

Although such power comes with price,
for such as they are viewed as lice.

A remnant of forgotten age,
that doomed the world in endless rage.

So do the elemancers hold,
to memories and tales, bold.

That one day yet, they may reclaim,
their treasured host and honoured name.

– J.S.Worth