The sword of power is there,
For those who are worthy.
Many will come far and wide,
To try to win the sword.

But the sword will only be,
For he of the true blood.
Those that are not of the blood,
Shall die when they grip it.

The one who can wield the sword,
Shall summon great armies.
He shall then bind the people,
As one under his flag.

He shall then lead them to war,
Against the forces of light.
And then darkness shall rein for,
A hundred, hundred years.

There shall be one who is born,
He the Dark One shall fear.
A mark shall be on his arm,
Of a falcon in flight.

When he reaches fifteen years,
He shall go on a quest.
He shall search for and shall find,
The great staff of the gods.

With this staff he shall befriend,
The fearsome gold dragon.
With this dragon as a mount,
He shall find an army.

He shall find the greatest smith,
Who shall make him a lance.
And this lance shall be tempered,
In the fires of light.

He shall lead his great army,
Against the dark armies.
And he shall kill the Dark One,
And light shall rein again.