Among the four, I represent West. But I am king of the East, Engaged in eternal conflict with the dragon.

In the realm where pawns bow low, her presence reigns, commanding loyalty with silent grace. Crowned in mystery, she holds the power to change the fate of kingdoms under her delicate touch.

I arrive with the moon, but I bring the storm. Pain is my harbinger; gore is my form. I sometimes wear wings and sometimes a cup. In fifty or sixty years my time’s up.

Attached to a clock, it tolls for the time. Attached to a church, it rings for the dead. In a coffin, you make this ring with a strong hope someone is listening. What is this four-letter word that you hope does not toll for you?

My heavy feet lay in hills or meadow, My spiky arms circle high or low, Upon them sharp black hairs do grow, While deep in my belly a fire does glow, Where delicate treasures do I stow.