Hour of Cessation - The Flight Of Sleipnir

Treachery has befallen our father!

The oath, pledged with sword and mail

Iron will restore his honor

Black clouds emerge from southern skies

Fire gleams from irate eyes

Vehement winds blow tensions high

Upon his flesh we wrest our chains

Ready hands hold steady blades

Captive, cruelty bestowed upon him

For mercy he implored them

He begged for release with empty pleas

Unchanged by his cries, they shall deliver him…

To his demise!

Upon a solemn path he followed

to a clearing on the hill he was led

Eyes closed, likely to never open again