Towards the Pantheon
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May the wolves start to howl again. May the age of darkness arise. We
will travel for eternitys into the unknown to reach what we
seek. Fight the ways through the barriers of light, through the
wastelands where nothing but grief have become the eternal
memory. Shield of life, sword of death held up high into the
sky. Guided by the shiening moon in the starry sky above. In the
horizon beyond black clouds of destruction rages like dancing shadows
of pain. We will grant Him their pain. He will grant us His flame. In
flesh and blood. He will arise to deliver the key. As the armours
black robe slides across the landscape, we see the land of wisdom,
strength and pure evil... Darkness, frost hate... the throne will be
ours. May the wolves start to howl again. May the age of darkness
arise. May we touch the black flames of the past again... and
forevermore.
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