An island of survival But not one of land Where all animals go Amidst scorched sands

A Cloud in space, Of dust and gas I birth new stars That glow away

A crest in the west, a patron in east. Big and powerful in the west, old and wise in the east. From mythos I am, not real but a tale. What am I?

In dark of night, The wooded deep, Beware of me, For I am how I eat.

Two words put together make a twofold lie One is a color, but that color is not mine The other a structure of wood or stone But not in my case, I would make a poor home