Crowds of people stand in tired anticipation, 

standing and enduring, 

in the blazing heat. 

On the massive sandstone dais, 

seven are seated, with their

bright, vibrantly dyed robes and sparkling 

blue jewelery, waiting for the eighth. 

The sun keeps up its blistering 

pace, but finally he arrives with savage-looking

eyes and a dominant demeanor, more finely 

dressed than anyone in sight.

The masses bow in fear, and one of the

people seated opens a case, removing

the scintillating and terrifying centerpiece.

Slowly walking towards the man, he raises the 

frontlet and places it on his forehead so 

the wild turquoise eyes face 

the people. They are speechless; they see

its eight dazzling golden arms and the

vicious, feral face and serrated teeth,

radiating energy and fierce power 

like the burning sun high above–

they know he is the king now.