War horns shake the mountains, the shield wall roars alive. I grip my blade with fire as the battle drums arrive. My brothers shout beside me, their spirits fierce and high— for every Viking knows his fate and meets it with a cry. Raise your steel into the burning sky, let the thunder know your name. For a warrior’s greatest triumph is the moment he is slain. If my blood becomes the story and my heartbeat fades away— then the gates of Valhalla will open for the brave. The clash of iron thunders, the earth beneath me shakes. I feel the blade that finds me, I feel the line that breaks. But victory fills my spirit, for this is fate’s embrace— to fall with honor in the fray is the path to Odin’s grace. The Valkyries descend now, their wings a blazing light. They lift me from the carnage and carry me from night. No sorrow in their calling, no fear within their cry— they bear the chosen warriors to glory in the sky. Raise your horns to the endless hall, let the golden fires blaze. For no Viking dies forgotten when the Valkyries give praise. Through the gates of shining triumph, past the dusk of mortal days— I rise into Valhalla, where the honored find their place.
