The Prophecy

The demon child awakens at the dawn of war,

Dancing the dance of the damned from afar.

The Lost Ancient will return,

Borne of all the others,

Or for eternity our island shall burn.

For all sisters and brothers,

The raven flies like a queen.

Savior of Avalon and everything.

So from the battlefield we may emerge victorious,

Provide for her the help she needs.

To be so very true and glorious,

Provide for her the help she needs,

And may this gift be the start of a new age.

Unite us, free us, conquer us, Ancients;

Save us, protect us, rule us, Ancients;

Deliver us from this time of darkness,

This sadness, this madness; Ancients;

Love us, hate us, bring us balance.

I, the Lost Ancient,

Heed your plea, your call.

I am found,

I have arisen,

I am ready;

I shall fly.