[Spoken Intro] I have watched the ice remember every wound. I have heard Braum speak of a little blade brother, a bright spark raised where sorrow left its mark. Blade Dancer of Zaun, cross the white threshold. The roster has room for fire. [Verse 1] Braum told me stories beside the frozen gate, of a small sword flashing through a broken fate. You learned to smile with a furnace in your chest, while sisters carried names the world would not let rest. You turn through danger, heel over heel, steel finding openings no shield can seal. A spark in one hand, a secret in the sleeve, you make a battlefield out of what others leave. [Pre-Chorus] I do not ask the snow to hide your scars, or make a saint of all your wars. Stand where the blue-white silence ends; show me what survives when fire bends. [Chorus] Welcome, Little Blade Brother, to the northern ring, let your acrobat's edge and red sparks sing. I am Anivia, keeper of the ancient sky; I wait beneath the storm to watch you try. Braum's tales have crossed the mountains and the frost— now prove what a lost son can carry, and what he has not lost. [Spoken Verse] They say you fight unfairly. Good. The world has never fought fairly with you. Bring the hidden charge. Bring the flame. Bring every crooked lesson the alleys taught your hands. But understand this: ice does not fear fire. It studies the shape of the burn. [Verse 2] Your blade draws circles where a straight man falls, then thunder blooms against the fortress walls. You lace the dark with powder, wire, and flame, and turn a clean exchange into a hunter's game. Fire magic coils along the tempered line, not wild enough to waste, not tame enough to shine. You strike below the honor, vanish from the sight, then rise with ash upon your grin and finish out the night. [Pre-Chorus] I have died and risen, feather, frost, and flame; I know the weight that follows every name. The dead may walk beside you through the snow, but they do not choose the path you show. [Chorus] Welcome, Little Blade Brother, to the northern ring, let your acrobat's edge and red sparks sing. I am Anivia, keeper of the ancient sky; I wait beneath the storm to watch you try. Braum's tales have crossed the mountains and the frost— now prove what a lost son can carry, and what he has not lost. [Bridge] If Zaun taught you hunger, let the summit hear it. If grief forged your temper, do not worship it. If Vi and Jinx still haunt the shape of home, bring that fracture with you—but do not fight alone. The blizzard opens. The arena waits. Your fire has found a colder fate. [Spoken Breakdown] Blade Dancer. You have been invited, not forgiven. You have been witnessed, not understood. So move. Make the first cut. Let every story Braum carried north meet the truth beneath your hands. [Final Chorus] Welcome, Little Blade Brother, let the old ice ring, show the broken world what a living spark can bring. I am Anivia, and my patient wings still rise; I will measure every flame beneath these skies. If the tales are true, the mountains will remember. If they are not, I will teach your fire the winter. [Outro] Come, Blade Dancer. The frost is watching. The fire is yours. Begin.
