The Scaling, The Maze And The Search

The Scaling, The Maze And The Search
He scales the heights,
Inch by inch,
The jagged outlets his hand holds,
The pain a triviality

Finally, he reaches the opening he was told of,
His hands a bloody mess,
Stopping but a moment to tend his wounds,
He rushes in,

Truly this is a Hellish place,
For a Hellish master,
Malignant growths creep over the rocks,
Monstrous webs block his path,

As he goes deeper into the passages,
Images of things hover in front of him,
Around him, surrounding him,
Things which seemed to gibber and leer at him

Further, further he goes,
With every step seeming to plunge deeper into nightmares,
Nightmares more horrifying than one could think possible,

Around, around he goes,
His will failing,
His sanity clawed at,

He cries!
The prince stumbles, falls,
Huddles on the ground,
Clutching at his head,

He cries!
Begging the Welkin, the stars,
The flames, anything!
To end this suffering,

Suddenly it stops,
His sanity re-emerges,
And as he rises,
He gazes upon a dark, cloaked figure on a throne of stone.