Folkvang - Wodensthrone - Scinlæca


The dark soils have been tainted by the blood of our enemies
Their dead wander in the unknown
Our fallen ascend into astral skies

The dead are left in perpetual sorrow, and the emerald spring leaves shimmer in the light of rekindled stars.
Cries are heard within the whispering breeze, and the dew and mist settle below our feet in this land of ours.

Vagaries of black semblance appear, stalking through the night,
[Remnants that were carried through the winds of bloodshed]

The dark soils have been tainted by the blood of our enemies
Their dead lay on the battlefield, their memory now hunts the trees

Licwiglunga! A chant that evokes the grievous dead
[Their cries have remained endless since physical death]

The furious winds gather above the haunted trees.
Winds of riding affinity.
The spectral huntsman ride through the night.

The father of all leads the Wodenream.
In pursuit of the Scienlaeca.
The dead are devoured - unmerciful flight.
The dead are devoured - unmerciful flight.

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