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Towards the Pantheon

May the wolves start to howl again. May the age of darkness arise. We

will travel for eternitys into the unknown to reach what we seek.

Fight the ways through the barriers of light, through the wastelands

where nothing but grief have become the eternal memory. Shield of

life, sword of death held up high into the sky. Guided by the shining

moon in the starry sky above. In the horizon beyond black clouds of

destruction rages like dancing shadows of pain. We will grant Him

their pain. He will grant us His flame. In flesh and blood. He will

arise to deliver the key. As the armours black robe slides across the

landscape, we see the land of wisdom, strength and pure evil...

Darkness, frost hate... the throne will be ours. May the wolves start

to howl again. May the age of darkness arise. May we touch the black

flames of the past again... and forevermore.

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