Ancient one sleeping, waiting to arise.
When earths power bleeds sacred red.
The mark strikes true; queen tsi sgili will devise.
He shall be washed from his entombing bed.
Through the hand of death he is free.
Terrible beauty, monstrous sight.
Ruled again they shall be.
Women shall kneel to his dark might.
Kalona's song sounds sweet.
As we slaughter with cold heat.