Mortal You aspire to become Τhe arrow that teaches The embodiment of virtue The carrier of Logos To voyage into uncharted expanses And wage war on the Old Gods Yet, mortal Your words are nought Your light is pallid Your armor is cracked
Unless you thrust at yourself First The sword that you wield For even the smallest body And the faintest voice Can ripple dimensions apart Should their aim strike true enough A single day In two years of darkness