Black is the blood that flows down from the mountains
Poisoned are the veins that drench our once green pastures.
We deserve our own suffering
a ruined nation without a king
Ashes fall like snow where once our forests stood.
Whatever remains the salt will wither away.
Asternas, once the glory of all the kingdoms, bright was our flame, great were the works we’ve
made.
Where foreign lords gladly paid tribute and pilgrims renewed their faith.
We deserve our own suffering
a ruined nation without a king
Asternas, our home. Once the glory of all the kingdoms.
Bright was the flame of our wisdom. Great were the works of our hands.
Where foreign lords gladly paid tribute and pilgrims sought to renew their faith, but for naught.
For we have forgotten the desolation from which we once were raised and beggared the people we
swore to protect. Our arrogance wrought our downfall. That… and an empty throne in a ruined hall.
Once we ruled as kings, glorious was our fame.
Accursed is the land we once called our home.
Chained down as slaves we’re driven forth
Clinging unto what hope our future holds
Who will end our suffering?
who will become our new king?
We’ve forgotten the desolation we once were in, we beggared the people we swore to protect.
Our arrogance had wrought our own downfall and an empty throne in a ruined hall.