The Ancient God of Shadow
Rose with purpose fell.
Ring Lords, mighty in craft and power,
He commanded in that hour—
The curse of the Light.

There before Dharv Nárok’s black walls—
Like sands of the seas or stars of the heavens—
Came in ordered assembly, spears bristling,
The armies of the Long Night—
The Dark God’s children.

Rose then the black vipers of the steppe—
Dreaded Sebukar, stirred by the promise of war,
Hated and feared of all the Shadow’s hordes.
Hear now oh Éirinn the echoes of their spears
Marching to battle.

From deep within the Forbidden Lands
Rode forth the dark armored myriads
To fill the Plain of N’Toth, a vast monster
Thundering its war cry—
Úru! Úru! Úru!

Advanced now the fierce legions of Ahati
Upon Dharv Nárok Crossing’s bloody ground.
Born to war, forged in the crucible of Maarath’s blight,
Flooding the field of black war in their deadliness,
Rode Úru’s golden daughters.

Before them as on a river stars tremble brokenly,
Or in warm forests bright feathered birds flash,
So over the glittering wall of spears
Fluttered the great banners in the winds of war—
Banners of the Light.

Proud banners of battles won on days desperate.
Symbols of victory and the pageant of nations
Gathered there for the mighty crusade
To stem the tide of the Long Night—
Banners of the Light.

Fearless, Éirinn’s warriors raised the Three Mooned Banner
Above the shield wall’s bright armored crescent.
Gleaming like snow ere battle’s gore stained them red,
Their spear points flashed their challenge in the light—
The promise of death.

Caesar’s golden eagles of Róimh glittering;
Parthia’s winged griffin dancing in the wind;
Venomous green of the dragon, the Sassanid raised,
Throbbed in the sun with their meanings and memories—
Banners of the Light.

Then cooled the hearts of griffin and dragon,
Deserting the host as the battle was joined,
Marching northward into the Harii lands,
Slaying and plundering all in their path—
The skies alight with sullen flame.

Thus was the battle o’ercast with swift somberness.
Yet stood Éirinn and Róimh defiant, unhesitant,
The fate of the free lands resting upon their swords.
The Light’s livery wrapped round their shields—
They knew no fear.

With thunder of drums and trill of horns
The great battle lines fused into agony.
The roar of battle rose hoarse and horrible—
Screams of the dying, curses of the victorious—
Smell of blood.

Long was the struggle, and the shield wall
Wavered beneath the Shadow’s assault.
Over the bloody plain the strident clash
Of steel on steel became the tolling of defeat—
They could not retreat.

Chained in grim hopelessness, ghastly and terrible;
Chained to destruction, beyond hope or mercy,
They roared their battle cries and gathered their courage.
Their spears again unwavering;
They defied conquering Death.

A pause in battle’s din,
And the hosts drew apart.
Then, like a sigh, came the voice of victory.
Llamrei, High Queen of the Éireanni
Gave her command.

A sudden murmur, a silence, then the
Young queen waved high the Three Moon Banner
And galloped forward to taste the dread lips of sacrifice.
In strident, brassy dismay carnyx sounded the attack—
Up the Three Moons!

Rising uncertainly, tremulous, then strongly
Down the long lines came a bellow of despair.
With a mad rush the Éireanni Fíanna
Death seeking, courageously charged the Darksouled line—
To certain doom.

Round Llamrei’s sun-bright armor
Surged a black sea of Sebukar.
A lone star in the Long Night’s darkness,
The flash of her spear glistened—
Horse and queen irresistible.

Then Bran, her Sword Captain, rose by her side
And followed by her devoted heroes wreaked
Bloody carnage among the Dark God’s host.
The Three Moon banner flew unwavering—
A call to courage.

Llamrei! Her name a battle cry,
Róimhán and Celtae fell upon Shadowsouled.
Fierce slaughter came with the Dark Host’s breaking
For Llamrei’s dying left no mercy in their hearts—
Death to the Shadow.

Awake oh Éirinn. Llamrei’s sacrifice
Is but a pale chant of memory
Wailing through the deep valleys of time.
Be vigilant for the dark winds
Again blow from the Shadow Realms.

The Ancient Lord of the Dark
Comes again with purpose stark.
The Shadow Legions march in the night
To bind Éirinn in the Shadow’s blight—
Chains and slavery.

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