[Verse 1 ] So these are gods you kept for yourselves. How remarkably kind of time. Elgar'nan, the righteous father, vengeance rendered as divine. You remember strength and judgment, some great hand that guards the weak. I remember what he called justice. You were fortunate not to see. Falon'Din now guides your dying, gentle shepherd to the dead. Strange. He once made corpses freely just to see his worship spread. Andruil taught the sacred hunter how to live by bow and blade. She was always fond of hunting. That much, at least, you saved. [Pre-Chorus] Names endure when truth does not. Shape survives when sense is gone. Take a fragment, make it sacred. Teach the error. Pass it on. [Chorus] This is what you remember: a hearth where there was once a city, a prayer where there was once a name, a god where there was once a person, and a monster given all the blame. You kept pieces through the ages. You held tightly. I can see. But fragments are not history. Do not teach my past to me. [Verse 2 ] June, a patient god of making, tools held neatly in his hands. You would scarcely recognize him in the work that crossed our lands. Sylaise tends your evening fires, heals the sick and warms the home. Once her hands raised cities skyward. Perhaps a hearth is not so wrong. Dirthamen keeps every secret. Falon'Din walks at his side. Twins, you call them. Not quite accurate. Not entirely a lie. There are worse mistakes you've made. Ghilan'nain, your gentle lady, guides the halla on their way. [brief instrumental turn] Yes. The halla were her making. Before she learned to shape much worse. [Chorus] This is what you remember: a craft where there was once creation, a hunt that never names the prey, a kindly guide who greets the dying but not the lives he threw away. You kept pieces through the ages. Some are truer than they seem. But scraps arranged in reverence do not resurrect the thing. [Verse 3 ] Then Mythal. All-Mother. Protector. Wisest voice among the gods. You call on her to guard your footsteps. You know enough to fear her wrath. You say she tempered rage with reason, stood between the world and flame; that those beneath her favor prospered, those who crossed her lost their name. That is not entirely wrong. And somehow that is worse. You know the hand that offered shelter. You know the hand that could destroy. You kept the judgment and the mercy, made them simple, made them whole. You know nothing of the choices. Nothing of the weight they bore. She was never what you call her. She was less. And she was more. [Bridge ] You wear the marks they gave their servants and call the markings yours with pride. You sing the names of those who bound you and curse the rebel who defied. I gave you truth without a riddle. No mask. No legend. No disguise. I told you I was Fen'Harel. You knew me. So you raised your knives. [brief suspension] Very well. Let us speak of him. [Verse 4 ] Fen'Harel, the clever traitor. Fen'Harel, who smiles and lies. He whispered into trusting ears and locked your gods beyond the sky. He brought ruin down on Arlathan. He left the People there to fall. He walks alone beyond the waking, hated most among them all. A liar? Yes. A traitor? To whom? I watched your gods put chains on people. I watched their glory feed on pain. I broke their chains and cleared their faces. I gave the hunted back their names. And when no gentler answer remained - I locked your precious gods away. [Final Chorus] So this is what you remember: the tyrants raised to holy names, the rebel made into a monster, the ruin kept, the reason lost- you kept pieces through the ages. I will grant you that much truth. But you built gods from broken memories and taught their names to every youth. You kept the scar and lost the story. Then cursed the hand that left the mark. [Outro] I came to give you what was missing. You answered knowledge with a blade. There is nothing I can teach you while you worship what remains. So keep your gods. Keep your stories. Keep the Dread Wolf at your door. I will not ask you to understand me. I have asked you once before.
