I cast aside my lady’s gift, consumed with doubt
Bound by terror, unable to take another step
“Who am I to wield such a Blade?” I cried
Blind in the face of apotheosis*
“Their numbers are endless
Their rage indomitable
And I, mere flesh
Incapable
Weak"
And then She Spoke:
“By my grace, your flesh will be made as Steel.
Your Will made diamond, Your Hand as flame.
You will give no quarter to Life-devourers
And no mercy to those that betray Us
You will suffer ten thousand blows,
And still you will rise, stronger.
This I promise my oath-sworn.
Be not afraid, my Child
I am here with you,
Unbound by time
As your breath
Your soul
(Singing)
Where I once held the rod of a scholar
I now held the blade of a king
Though I once spoke the words of a pauper
Words soar on divinity’s wing
Blind are the suffering masses, beset on all sides by the beasts
Wise are the seven on seven, made ready in solitude’s keep
Glory, the Order of Saepha
Glory, the Blades in the Dark
Glory, the sacrifice taken
Glory, the battle still fought
The gracious ones named it a Blood War
For us, it is solemnly vowed
Make ready the weapons of vengeance
Unbroken, unyielding and proud
* alternatively translated as “metamorphosis”