In blackest pitch the pyres burn,
In darkest night the shadows learn,
All burning men and babes at rest will both be clutched against it's breast,
Should they the bold and we the few,
Should they the many hidden from view,
Their onyx claws they grasp our lands cold iron bonds tie hand to hand,
Brave we are to draw the line,
Brave we were then run and hide,
Be sure to count those hooded men as graves fill up along the glen,
Slaves of passion slaves of woe, Slaves to market sure to go, Forever bound by chains am I, iron, onyx, secrets, lies,
I'll slowly tell my tale here; The tale of the breaking of the Corvox, our misery and strife and why I can't rest until I free the rest of my family which are currently captive in secret slaver dens across Elyria.
There is nothing I won't do for the information that leads to their freedom, beg, steal, lie, kill, these are just tools forced into my hand from the moment my noble family was enslaved and scattered to the four winds, the day the wings of the Corvox were broken.