(Verse I)

(Verse I) Under storm-split skies the war-horns wailed, Skjǫldr to skjǫldr where the spear-wind hailed. Iron thundered and wolf-fires burned, Red ran the field where the brave-heart turned. Bjǫrn stood fast with his bloodied blade, Sigrún beside him — unafraid. Brynja shattered, but bright her gaze, Like northern ljós in battle-haze. Above them circling, hrafnar cried — And through the smoke a rider replied. (Pre-Chorus) White were her wings in the ashen rain, Valkyrja riding through the slain. “Who comes now to Óðinn’s hall?” Her voice rang cold above the fall. Bjǫrn half-fell — his life near fled. Sigrún rose where the earth ran red. “Not this day,” she swore to the sky. “Our skǫp stands yet — we do not die.” (Chorus) Blóð! Blóð! Let the war-drum sound! Fate is forged where the shield-rings bound. If Valhǫll calls with its golden flame, It shall not claim us yet by name! For love stands fast where the world may break, And Ragnarǫk stirs in the gods’ own wake. (Verse II) Night fell black on the broken plain, Smoke like serpents in drifting rain. Bjǫrn lay pale in Sigrún’s hold, Breath like mist in the creeping cold. Then came a shadow, tall and grim — One eye burning, the stars grown dim. Gungnir gleamed in the fire’s breath: Óðinn walking the road of death. He spoke no word — yet the sky replied. The roots of Yggdrasill groaned and sighed. They saw in flame what none should see: Fenrir breaking destiny. Bifrǫst cracking in burning arc, Surt’s fire eating the dark. They saw themselves with silvered hair, Still in the shield-wall standing there. Children grown with steel in hand, Last bright line of a dying land. (Pre-Chorus II) Óðinn turned his unseen gaze, Measured their hearts in the battle-blaze. “Long shall you walk in blood and breath, Bound not by fear — nor hurried death.” Then he vanished in ember and wind — But left his mark beneath their skin. (Chorus) Blóð! Blóð! Let the war-drum cry! Ravens wheel in a broken sky. If Ragnarǫk splits the earth apart, Still shield to shield — and heart to heart. Till Gjallarhorn shakes the final breath, We stand unbowed in the face of death! (Bridge – slower, ritualistic) Hrafnar circle. The air grows thin. They whisper of worlds that end in sin. “Come,” hums Valhǫll through smoke and bone. “Come to the high-seat, claim your throne.” “Not yet,” Bjǫrn growls through blood and pain. “Not while our line walks earth and rain.” Sigrún kneels, blade to flame — Carves their oath in the gods’ own name: “If we must fall when the last fires rise, Let it be beneath red Ragnar skies. Let Óðinn see when the worlds are torn — Love outlives both doom and horn.” (Final Chorus – rising intensity) Blóð! Blóð! Let the heavens shake! Ashes fall in the serpent’s wake. If Valhǫll opens its shining gate, It shall receive us — but not by fate. For we were chosen beneath storm’s breath, To walk long roads through war and death. When Fenrir feeds and the bright gods fall, We shall stand at the last shield-wall. Two as one where the world burns down — No flame can break what skǫp has bound. (Outro – whispered) Under hrafnsvart sky they stand. Hand in bloodied, faithful hand. When Ragnarǫk claims earth and sea — Their name lives on in eternity.