I asked when I was a child
Why the dark was so scary and wild.
Why the day had to die
And steal the blue from the sky.
Why in growing shadow did the Reachers scrape
As the barriers between our worlds lost their shape.
She stroked my hair and said
The dark was a reminder for little ones to go to bed.
That the day needed rest, too
Before the next day began anew.
And that there would always be those who stood vigil
At the ready with Implement and sigil.
For even though the sun falls before the feet of night
The moon, without fail, rises share its light.
– Poem from Arcana Archives, Author Unknown