The Ivory Throne

The king of the ivory throne,
the keeper of oaken walls
released his last breath.
Emebedded in the pearl floors
remain only his dying words,
encrypted in a forgotten tongue
and beneath the seal of kin.
Bretheren of the code
to which he followed
lay to rest his withered body
upon a pyre funeral in solemn honor.
No queen and no spawn,
the line is broken.
The ivory throne now sits empty.
A bastion of freedom slumbers in doubt.
Time will not heal this wound.