No Silver Dawn (In these halls, stone drinks blood) (V2)

No silver dawn. No promised crown. Only the slowest way to drown. No perfect fate. No saving breath. Just choosing how you bargain death. Choose too late — the dark will feast. Choose too slow — you feed the beast. In these halls of fang and flame, The stone remembers every name. Raise your steel and bare your teeth, Hear the grinding underneath. Walls that whisper, floors that moan, Mortar mixed with marrowed bone. Torchlight flickers, shadows swell, Every step a tolling bell. Pride burns bright — then gutters thin, The dungeon waits beneath your skin. Strike as one or fall apart, Hear the hammer in your heart. Shield to shield and breath to breath, Circle tight against the death. Drums like thunder, boots like rain, Iron singing out its pain. Cry it loud so fear won’t stay — “Stone won’t take us whole today!” But stone is patient. Stone is wise. It sees the tremor in your eyes. It tastes the doubt behind the roar, It knows which soul will hit the floor. Legends aren’t in ink declared, They’re carved where bone and blade have bared. Heroes rise in ash and flood — Their titles written out in blood. So chant it hard. Let echoes ring. Make the vaulted ceiling sing. If you break — then break as fire. If you fall — fall higher. For when the breach splits dark in two, It comes to measure me and you. Stand as stone — or turn to mud. In these halls, Stone drinks blood. No future. No light. Just fight. No savior. No name. Just flame. Hold. Hold. HOLD. Crack. Crack. CRACK. Steel up. Shields lock. Blood drop. Steel up. Shields lock. Blood drop. You fear. It feeds. You fall. It breeds. No songs. No praise. Only blaze. No myths. No throne. Only bone.