As always —
To perceive the man's fury,
One must do so seven thousand paces away.

The Kremnos he guards
Is once again shrouded by mist.
Rust, blood, and fire
Are the ceremonial ode to the demigod.

There is no one to witness or to give cheers of glory,
The final Kremnos Festival goes on without end.

The victor shall embrace death and silence,
And his glory
Will only be remembered by the defeated array.

For that man,
Laws and seals no longer have meaning.

War and battle never cease for a single minute.
Each passing day indistinguishable, morning and night entwined.

The corpses pile up,
Filling ravines, forming mountains strong.
He carved time with peaks' edge,
And counted the fleeting years by fires of war.

Sometimes,
The lion would climb to the hilltop
To look down on the world and search for friends in longing.

The distant heavens earth stretched vast and boundless,
But their endlessness felt ever more remote.