Prelude to the Song of the Apotheon

“O Ruidus, grant humble chorus leave
To sing the song which hails the zenith of
Your accursed, thrice-blessed Apotheon;
Remember'd best by deeds in war, and yet
Whose acts were driven oft by fate most foul.

His kindly brow bore gifts from gods of change,
And art, and moon, yet in his soul was pain,
The suffering of your vermilion light
Drove the Paragon to a desert realm
Bestrewn with blades and drenched in crimson blood.

So hear, O moon of curséd deeds and fates!
The song of he who rose above your great
And mighty pow'r, to save Exandria.
From flames of war fanned by the Ruiner's blade.”