We are the eternal warriors
We have felt our comrades die
Whilst beneath a hill's dark earth
On marble bowers we lie.

No light penetrates our slumber
No sound disturbs this hall
We rest, forgotten by the world
Until the last trump's call.

Our names are all forgotten
Our existence, a children's tale
But still we are true to our calling
And our duty we will not fail.

When the Darkness creeps o'er all
When the land cries out in pain
You will hear a note, blown load and clear
And we will ride again.

On horses white as virgin snow
With banners of crimson and gold
We'll ride against the Darkness
And the line of Light we'll hold.

With silvered blades and lances
Conflict will be sought
And there beneath a sable sky
The last battle will be fought.

Until the last trump sounds
And calls us from our sleep
We dream of the Light's defence
And our sacred duty keep.


Penned by my hand on the 24th of Mayan, in the year 406 AF.