Let the storm arrive, whirlwinds of the darkest times
Once there was a crow flying over me
Whispers, from the envoy, told it
Warned the trails of our fame
We're marching and riding on the edge of each
Path for a guilty fate
Fine blades of the brethren, comrades
Find your way through enemies
Four winds from the escape of vultures
Howled to me and blew my eyes
Folks, now, have united at the Altar
A guild is formed
We're walking and flying on the edge of each
Path for a glorious fate
Fine blades of the brethren, comrades
Find your way through enemies
I've felt my heart so wretch yet sick
But now, I am accomplished