Legends of Avalon: The Round Table

In Camelot's hall where shadows sleep, Where time is bound and runes run deep, There rests the Table, vast and round, Before the throne where kings are crowned.

Twelve thrones of fate by craft divine, Encircled one of emerald shine. Twelve crystals wait, their hearts grown still, Till vow and valor wake their will.

Crimson Red, Royal Purple, Pure White, Radiant Gold, Teal, Bronze, and Silver bright. Black, Crimson Orange, Forest Brown, Indigo, Burgundy, All slumber yet, awaiting destiny.

At center burns the verdant flame, The heart of Arthur’s crown and name. His soul made stone, his might made light, A dragon’s star in endless night.

Around it, carved by hand of seer, A rune that binds both far and near. ’Tis Caliburn’s echo, forged in vow, That seals the realm in sacred now.

Then Merlin came—of form unknown, Cloaked in mist and starlight shone. Their eyes held ages yet unborn, Where dreams and oaths in fate are sworn.

Upon the heart they set with care, A golden stand of beauty rare. And there atop, a crystal bright, Awoke the slumbering rune of light.

The chamber breathed, the air did gleam, As magic stirred the silent dream. Yet only one full shone that eve, The emerald heart, for all to see.

And Merlin spake with voice of might, “Arise, ye Twelve, when comes the night. By blood of kings and steel of hand, By oath unbent, ye serve this land.

Through peace and war, through dusk and dawn, Thy souls to Arthur’s realm are drawn.”

Thus burned the rune, the vow was sealed, Their fates to Camelot revealed. Though only Arthur’s stone did blaze, The Twelve await their destined days.