Exalted
I vow, my love, upon your shattered soul,
To hunt the six who tore you from my side.
To kill the traitor-knights, to seize their blades
Which robbed an honest king of his fair bride.
Vengeance rouses death itself to stir.
I care not if it sees my Kingdom razed.
A thousand dead will march at my command,
My flesh will be your tomb, my soul your grave.