Primordial

Brother, what tidings doth thou bring?
Can't you hear Dread Words from Traitors Tongues
Sister, Few Honours are left standing Proud
In this world
They have made the soil ever barren
Our Legends but Shadows, Idle and Fallen to Ruin
My Haert, Knows Flasehood Prevails
In this, the Long Winter of the Spirit
We have Bron Witness to False Judgement
Yet against all this
I carry the Fight, Beyond the Ages
The Wolves shall echo my rallying Cry
An Oath, Sworn of Ancient Blood
Haunting the Usurpers through plague (and Pestilence)