Twelve there were, of might untamed,
The Titans—gods of fire and flame.
Born before the stars took hold,
Before the light, before the fold.
They carved the heavens, shaped the land,
Yet sought to rule with iron hand.
With greed they roared, with wrath they swayed,
And in their pride, the skies decayed.
The Golden Creator, wise and bold,
Forged their prison, vast and cold.
Chains of starlight, walls of stone,
A tomb of silence, carved in bone.
Yet time is cruel, and cracks now spread,
A whisper wakes the long-thought dead.
The seal is frail, the dark runs deep,
And soon shall end the dreamer’s sleep.
When twelve rise up with burning eyes,
The heavens fall, the oceans rise.
The Rapture comes with doom untold,
To claim the world in death’s embrace cold.
