"What do we have here? It beckons yet cowers in fear.

  As I drew near it occurred to me to extend a hand.

  If it were planned, I had not a mind, it reached out.

  Its hand was as cold as mine, but I smiled with warmth.

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  'Nay,' it said to me, 'I don't need your fire but you need mine.'

  'Open up, let the inferno rage high.'

  Consumed, my thoughts occupy the space between,

  The sword in my hand and it staring coldly back at me.

  How could this be?! I've not the eyes to see,

  The path laid as bare as the blade set before me."

  -Excerpt from the journal of Gabril the Swordpoet, in reference to his drawing of The Sword of Changing Seasons.