In the winter Kings will fall
Watching princes take the shore.
Immortal fingers clasp the wild winds
That weave around like golden string.
This, a quiet call towards the maelstrom
Is taken by the foolish king.
Pride call upon your vessels
Spirits take your place;
The armies of approaching chaos
Will steal the wilting waste.
Cling now to the remnants
That bare the royal name
Defy the voice of thunder
And let the bastard take the blame.
For he is no impure desire, no,
He is the brightest jewel;
This sordid crown will conquer him
As he leads his band of fools.
“Sisters take your shields now
Children take your bows,
Prophets are just mortal men
Who keep from us all they know!
Trust not reason my heir
For that will be your death
Face the beckoning eyes of fate
And draw a defiant breath.”
And here I wait with the Seeing Eye,
Perched atop an obelisk
To watch the last king die.