Harsh and terrible is Thy path amongst these ruins Eyes set to your ascension and eyes to your fall. A majestic enantiodromia, a clash of destinies untold. Twenty-two Arrows shall pierce thy Heart, As your Bow shall become thine Shadow, Your face shall turn to the sanctioned grounds, As your gaze shall be set towards Godhood. A crescendo of illusion and delusion has sprung, Since the third Creation of these mundane soils, Coiling this World to glory and decadence, Yet thou shall yield your ever polished sickle, And you shall reap, you shall shatter, you shall tear. A blaze ever elusive as thine fermented Shadow, A victory buried under a Mountain of Gold. A golden arrow for the Lord of the eternal Hunt, A silver arrow for the Mistress of Gnosis, A brazen arrow for the Brazen Child, An arrow of Ether for the Hunter.