When the trials begin,in soul-torn solitude despairing,the hunter waits alone.Te companions emergefrom fast-bound ties of fateuniting against a common foe. When the shadows descend,in Hell-sworn covenant unswerving the blighted brothers hunt,and the godborn appears,in rose-blessed abbey reared,arising to loose the godly spark. When the harvest time comes,in hate-fueled mission grim unbending,the shadowed reapers search.Te adversary vies with ﬁend-wrought enemies,opposing the twisting schemes of Hell. When the tempest is born,as storm-tossed waters rise uncaring,the promised hope still shines. And the reaver beholdsthe dawn-born chosen’s gaze,transforming the darkness into light. When the battle is lost,through quake-tossed battleﬁelds unwitting the seasoned legions march,but the sentinel ﬂees with once-proud royalty,protecting devotion’s fragile heart. When the ending draws near, with ice-locked stars unmoving,the threefold threats await,and the herald proclaims,in war-wrecked misery,announcing the dying of an age.
—As written by Elliandreth of Orishaar, c. –17,600 DR