The quest for Azunda hath drown near
The young king, the chaos he brings
With iron grip's sword, chants come forth
The child of dark is he

The prophecy, chaos not near
In chaos, prophecies begone
This child of dark, hath foreseen
He makes its own destiny

The magic he creates is from his will
The magic of Azunda, he shall receive
Iron grip's sword guides his path
To the place which is no more

The journey to this place is creation
In this creation, he shall be
Living for himself and his destiny
In his path, lies of the prophecies

In his mind he sees another
Who wishes to receive, Azunda
He sees light within in he's enemy
And laughs at the prophecy

His will and his word is his sorcery

To be continued...