At the court of king Chaos only blood

can write its own tragedy...'



Mighty warriors from the silver hills

march, all led by golden winds

Elves and trolls from holy mystic woods

run through the last snow



He's now coming from the middle lands

handling proud his magic sword

Glory, pride and honor ride with him

Burns the flame of north



They will all meet in the Kazar ruins

not so far from Ancelot

In the temple of the fallen one

their hope will be born...



Born from the asches of ancient glory... Born!



They all hail the mighty chosen one

reaching the skies with their cry

They are ready to reach Ancelot

Arwald's calling loud...



'Glory ride with us! Lux triumphans!

Magic and steelgods lead us to a new dawn