"A storm will come, rolling in from the great sea
It will carry rage of a thousand souls - all clad in black
Bringing death on both land and in air And then you will know that the ending is near
The chosen will meet his own blood"
Aarion walked through the wet grass, reaching the hill of Heimad
One hand ready on the sword, the other steady to balance
The rain poured on his face, and a flash gave him sight
Belhelth on the top since hours, surrounded by light
Sound the horn, let the armies march
Let them face their destiny
To be touched by the mighty storm
Fury unleashed, Leaving the reaper pleased
And the storm comes, rolling in from the great sea
Bringing rage of a thousand souls - all clad in black
It slaughters men as a hungry beast
Ripping their flesh into particles
…And the name of the storm was Aarion
Sound the horn, let the armies march
Let them face their destiny
To be touched by the mighty storm
Fury unleashed, leaving the reaper pleased
Sword met sword, daggers met shields
Equally strong, but different in minds
Fighting for hours, waiting for a mistake
And then a opening, a sword carving flesh
Spraying the blood, letting the souls free
And they knew whom to blame for their misery
Attacking him over and over again
Belhelth turns insane, kneeling the ground
Receiving the final swing of Yeith-Anz
And the seven dragons appears, all clad in white
…The prophecy is done!
