Legends of Avalon: The Third Knight "The White Saint"

Within the hall where fates entwine, And Merlin stirs the light divine, The orb did glow in gentle hue, A shimmer born of morning dew.

Its radiance pure, its whisper mild, Revealed the heart of nature’s child. In forest deep, where silence reigned, A mother wept, by grief constrained.

Her son she hid from sword and crown, Lest war should cast his spirit down. Among the trees he grew in grace, With starlight’s peace upon his face.

The stag became his fleeting guide, The stream his voice, the hills his pride. No courtly hall nor noble crest, But faith and light adorned his breast.

One dawn, through mist, he chanced to see Bright knights ride forth in majesty. Their armor blazed like suns untamed, Their honor sung, their deeds proclaimed.

And in his soul, a vow took flame, To earn by heart what birth denied name. Through frost and storm his hands were tried, Through thorn and pain, his will supplied.

He forged his blade ’neath heaven’s glow, From river’s stone and fallen bough. Each swing, each wound, each breath of strife, Did shape the man, and temper life.

When fate at last did call his way, He rode where light met courtly day. To Camelot’s gate his journey came, A spirit pure, unscarred by shame.

Before the throne he bowed so still, His silence spoke of heart and will. His trials etched in every scar, Shone brighter than the knights of star.

Then Arthur rose, his eyes alight, “Thy soul bears truth, thy path is right. From forest wild to kingdom’s door, Thou bring’st the peace we hunger for. Rise, noble heart, of spirit bright, Sir Percival—the Saint of White. Let purity thy banner be, A mirror of eternity.”

Then all the court in awe was stilled, As light divine the chamber filled. The orb did blaze, the rune did gleam, And woke anew the Table’s dream.

Upon the round, now thrice it shone— Three lights, three hearts, three vows as one. Crimson burned where courage bled, And Gold where honor’s word was said. But now between their kindred light, There glowed the flame of Purest White.

Then Merlin spake through veil of flame, “The Saint hath risen, sealed his name. Three shine this eve through fate’s embrace— The Flame, the Lion, and the Grace. Yet others sleep, their paths unshown, Till time recalls what stars have sown.”

And as the light to stillness died, The White still gleamed where truth did bide. For in that hall of stone and pride, The Saint of Purity did abide.