The prophecy has been spoken, and its words cannot be undone.
For when the storm approaches, it will bring destruction to everyone.
May the Clay Men listen to the rolling thunder and let its message sink in deep.
For it speaks of a future that will make even strong men weep.
A blade bathed in blood, ichor shall draw,
For the fragment that will break shall make a king fall to his knees.
But after his blood has been spilled,
He will rise from the chaos upon the bodies of the killed,
To finally be welcomed into the lands of his birth.
But before the ice comes to thaw to reveal the truths buried underneath,
He will need to lift his head with the knowledge of his worth,
For that is the day he will take his throne,
And wear the crown of his kingdom,
To finally be given his rebirth,
Where history will prove that rust can also turn to steel.