Raise the banners, black as night We’ve fed the soil with mortal fright The swords are still, the silence deep The living scream, but do not speak Their gods have fallen, pale and dumb Their fires fade — our time has come The crypt doors swing, the dead reveal Their majesty — when the living kneel When the living kneel, the oath is sealed No blood, no sun, no sword to wield We are the cold that does not break We are the storm that does not wake When the living kneel — we rise They built their towers, forged their gold But dust and rot are all they hold The breath they praised, the light they swore We turned to ash and drank once more A thousand kings beneath our tread Their crowns are rust, their glory bled They beg for peace, but we don’t feel We only smile — when the living kneel When the living kneel, the dark has won No hope remains, no rising sun We do not die, we do not yield We claim the throne, we scorch the field When the living kneel — it’s done No mourning song, no funeral flame We mark the earth with deathless names And every stone we carve our fate We are not cursed — we are the gate The blood they shed becomes our right To rule the grave, to own the night So carve this law in ash and steel: The dead shall rise — when the living kneel
