Part 1

Part 3

“You asked for hope, that’s all I know;
There is no simple cure.
You have to walk against the flow,
And most of all, endure.”

“Who are you, that you don’t flee
From my horrific countenance?”
“My name is Cuinn, and as you see
This frame would make poor sustenance.

“Fleeing would not help my fate
Nor aid you on your troubled path;
So I’ll stay here by my garden gate,
Offer help and risk your wrath.”

“My name is Daric, or it was, when I was still a man,
If you can truly help me, then I’ll gladly shake your hand.
I only hope the beast in me will stay under control
And one day you will be rewarded for your gracious soul.

A warm meal is provided that gives relief and strength;
Cuinn retrieves a faded map, describes the route at length,
Packs a bag with fresh supplies then sends him on his way,
Towards the distant mountains at the very break of day.

Daric sees a pack of wolves surrounding an old cart,
Threatening to tear its screaming occupants apart.
Brave parents armed with pitchforks try to keep the beasts at bay,
But there is little hope that they will see another day.

Daric charges down the hill, transforming as he leaps
Into the canine pack, discarding bodies piled in heaps.
They retreat when they see he is more fearsome than they,
The little family is now free to go upon their way.

Instead of offering their thanks, their cries grow shriller still,
They fear him more than snarling wolves who closed in for the kill.
Their lack of gratitude inflames the growling beast within;
He flees before it takes control and wipes out all their kin.

Daric presses on through hills and fields alive with streams,
Through dark and barren lands that seem more like a fever dream,
Past riverbanks and still lake shores and even ocean coasts,
By ruined citadels whose shadows swarm with silent ghosts.

Then at last he spots the end point that is marked upon his map
The beast screams deep within him that this place is but a trap.
He ventures forward warily to scale the verdant slope
As bitter fear is blended with a truly lethal hope.

Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

His claws have half retracted,
But he’s clearly still a freak.
While he is thus distracted
He’s startled by a squeak.

“Hmm, what do we have out here?”
Says an old man with a staff.
He squints his eyes, displays no fear,
And comments with a laugh:

“A wanderer, I wonder,
To venture out this far;
It makes me pause and ponder
Whether you know where you are.”

“Stay back, old man, for your own sake,
Or call for help at least;
The rage within me may yet break,
I’ve been cursed by the beast.”

“That much is clear, my burdened friend,
Your teeth and claws stand out;
You’re not the first to meet his end
And end up hearabout.”

“Meet his end, so I am dead?
I failed like all the rest?”
“No, you somehow kept your head
And now you are my guest.

“I’ll wager you don’t live in fear
Of losing name or station,
So can stand and persevere
Upon a new foundation.”

“I cling to life but barely,
Guilt and rage tear at my soul.
Clarity comes rarely,
How can I hope to be made whole?”

“There is a way, old rumors say,
To dissipate this curse.
Though on the Hill of Myth there may
Be also something worse.”

“Worse than this affliction?
What could cause me more regret?
What sort of benediction
Carries such an awful threat?”

Part 4

My apologies for my long absence, I have been overloaded with work of late, but I have not been entirely idle.

I have been working on a logo for the blog to be engraved on official Zwyckyverse pens (and anything else in the future), and would like some feedback from my fine readers. Which of these two options would you like to see used? Zwyckyversians, choose your flag!