(Cyril sits chained in a cold cell. Magic-suppressing cuffs glow faintly. His voice is quiet, calculated, steady — like a spark waiting to catch.) [Verse 1] They fear the hands that bend the flame, Unless those hands uphold their name. A hero breaks the sacred law— They cheer. I do the same… They draw their sword. They call it flaw. [Verse 2] Mercy, they said, makes men divine. But mercy, I see, is just a sign That power slips right through your grasp— They’ll cut your throat and call it just. (He stands slowly, eyes burning.) [Pre-Chorus] So here’s the truth, the world has taught: They crown the cruel, forget the ought. [Chorus] Rule… or be ruled. Take the reins, or die a tool. Kindness is a rusted chain, A soft excuse to lose again. Bow to fate, be used, obey… Or burn the script and write your way. The world won’t kneel unless it’s schooled. So rule… or be ruled. (Footsteps echo above, far away. Cyril smiles bitterly.) [Verse 3] They raise their kings, then watch them fall, But only dogs stay in the stall. I begged, I served, I bled for light… And all I earned was silent night. [Bridge] So carve the sigils, crack the stone, Let gods and fate reap what they’ve sown. If I must wear a villain’s face… Then let it be my crown, my place. [Chorus – Reprise] Rule… or be ruled. Wear the mask, or die the fool. They called me shadow — I agree. But shadows move when none dare see. So I will rise, unblessed, unnamed… The fire they locked, now uncontained. Let history paint me cruel, and cold— But not… controlled. (A low pulse of magic begins to crackle in the cuffs. He lifts his head. A final vow — whispered, almost reverent.) [Outro] Rule… or be ruled. And I have made… my choice.
