On the Origin of the World

 In yonder days of old, there was Kon-Bal, They were mere naught, in this world's thrall.

In their lonesome solitude, content they found not, Thus, the Drakon's form from their thoughts begot.

Fashioned in the likeness of Kon-Bal's own, No more were they alone, love for Drakon had grown.

Creation brought joy, excitement, and more, Kon-Bal, their hearts filled with a yearning core.

Once again, from Kon-Bal's divine hand, The Dravir emerged, a different, wondrous strand.

Kon-Bal cherished the Dravir's delicate grace, Unique they were, in a special embrace.

Wil'dica thrived in peace and joy's embrace, Drakon majestic, Dravir in a tranquil space.

Yet, envy crept into the Dravir's heart, A shadow that tore the land apart.

Love was there, but envy had its say, A Dravir's betrayal cast a shadow that day.

Kon-Bal's love was blinded by envy's blight, One Dravir's strike plunged them into the night.

But the essence of all did not cease, Change ensued, division brought release.

From Kon-Bal's division, two did arise, Malkon and Dron-bal, reaching for the skies.

With rebirth came an urge to create anew, Klarsdae were born, each one powerful and true.

Drakon resembled Kon-Bal's divine might, Dravir countless, in their nature light.

Klarsdae, unique, each with a burning desire, Longing for approval, their hearts on fire.

Desiring favor from their creators on high, Each crafted a species, aiming to reach the sky.

With unwavering love for Drakon and Dravir's grace, Malkon and Dron-bal found the Klarsdae's embrace misplaced.

Enraged by the Klarsdae's unmet desire, They sought their moment, fueled by ire.

Time passed, and their chance arrived at last, The Klarsdae struck, their fury unsurpassed.

Their target, the Drakon, beloved and grand, A vicious battle waged, swift as shifting sand.

Drakon's splendor, no defense could bear, When the carnage ceased, none could declare.

Gone were the Drakon, in the aftermath's wake, Their existence erased, no longer to partake.

Next, the Dravir, under Klarsdae's care, For favor they'd be loved, if they were all that remained there.

For the first time in ages, Malkon and Dron-Bal's goal aligned, Their powers combined, a unity defined.

With Drakon gone, the Dravir faced their wrath, Their power surged, a furious, raging path.

Klarsdae, in exile, beyond time's embrace, Apart yet together, each in their own space.

The effort, immense, to accomplish this feat, With all their strength, the task complete.

Then, vanished they did, from sight and sound, A new age began, the old one unbound.