When the wind blows behind the hills. In the mist you'll hear
Quakes in the horizon and fear in the air.
Guardians of the lost temple with burnt swords spread suffering to their foes.
Follow the wind, fight with pride. you're the chosen warrior, nothing would defeat you, nothing.
Wizards cast their spells as the dust waits for the dawn, through unknown land, among bloody ways never sailed.
Don't be taken by weekness, go by the light of your sword.
Darken your ways and search eternal might
When the sun gets down behind the hills, a new day will
Appear with eternal might for your fellows.