The song was one that the Wizards in the horde below knew well. It was a prayer to the dead and a prayer for their continuance under Tressed's guidance. It was a prayer of desperation, loneliness, loss, and love.
"Praise ye, the fallen.
Praise ye, the damned.
Praise ye, the prophets gone,
The Lonely, and Unmanned.
May golden hair, thy beauty dwell,
In Tressed's eyes, may you do well
For all the gods, their mercies raise,
All, excepting Geez, amaze
Praise ye, the fallen,
Praise ye, the damned,
Praise ye, the prophets gone,
The Lonely, and Unmanned.
Now I stand, at heavens' door,
and beg the dead to take no more
But in they mercies we impart
To pray, no more from us will part.
(At this, Gerald's older version rang out and stunned the Wizards in the camp below, for his voice was ringing in the still silence that had followed the massive spell.)
