The Backup Plan

Look at this, you get a free poem while I explain my new Don't Stave fanart project. My first 'story through pictures' style fanart. So..here goes.

When infinite realms are in the shadows grasp.
Careful avoidance of anyone who would be missed is an important task.
But sometimes, it does not go as planned alas.
And the darkest chapter of the ink-black story does begin.

Wilson and Maxwell, former enemies, huddle in a strange cold breeze.
It should be summer, autumn soon coming.
But the chill is very great.
A premature winter weather movement?
But the throne is now United. Queen and King should be one.
There should be no power greater!
But it seems...there was one.

In recent days, the selection was altered.
Charlie, both King and Queen, had this once faltered.
Someone passed who should have not passed.
Someone with a god's long gaze.
Despite his body a frail and mortal shell.
This one, He who Unstands.
Conquered the wilderness land.
Without turning back, he saw the Seats all before his eyes.
Maxwell the Creator, Wilson the Heir, Willow the Destroyer, Woodie the Savage, Wendy the Medium, and all the rest. Each really thought that they where best.
Once again, in temporal cycle round.
This strange visitor found himself bound.
He easily overcame the crumbling tests.
Put up by old Maxy to challenge the rest.
Though small and frail, he now beheld.
The flower-strewn Throne, Charlie's power seeping through.
Oh, how that once innocent woman had done more harm than all of them together!
He would defeat her, and destroy that throne forever!
Three days battle finally felled the Queen and King as one.
But our story, it seems, has only begun.
The Cycle of kings once again begins its horrid spell.
As certain as the certainty of a clock striking twelve.
The throne's flowers fell, and even though the intruder could,
in an instant, go from here to there, the flower gates had slammed shut.
He could run absolutely nowhere. Charlie laughed, and Maxwell raised his head, looking grim.
He said, "I'm sure of it, the shadows have taken him."
Wilson was about to ask who his sorry former nemesis alluded,
when he heard a gasp, and turned to see the grim events concluded.
Black tendrils grew razor thorns, and bit into white bone.
And thus, the only one who could have saved them all was bound upon the Throne.
And so the growing icy chill bit deeper, deeper to the core.
A low deep icy voice declared what all would have in store,
"I am not like the other rulers. I will not be going home. If I must, I will wipe,
this land clean and close the holes. No one else will enter this place, no one else will leave. No one else will be around, and I will stay forever bound."
Wilson tried to raise a cry, but the voice spoke back, "I'd like to see you try. Kill the world and everything in it, I will just drag you to Hell. I've seen enough to wish to make anyone cry. It's all happened to me before, no one else is getting hurt. So be quiet...or you'll die."