And whan the moon showed us the midnight hour, the bells rang their cries of death.
From the tower of the black tomb the sky got stained by this bats and lighting gave us a glimp of the massive graveyard stones.
It is time O'Lord of Wolves, prepare to rise up from Thy tomb and bless us with imperial blood.
We cried the words towards the clouds which stood still and watched us deep below.

An unhearable tremor raised in the ground and introduced the coming.
Our Master of the Undead Legion had made his way through the holy earth he was buried in. Centuries ago he got caught and paid for his bloodred lusts.
A priest of god had brought him down and put him in the earth to rest.
But the evil forces that bonded his flesh were stronger then god's cage.
And with the blood of our sacrifice we released His Mighty Grace.

With a strike of thunder the earth burst open and released the one kept silent.
A mighty figure of anger and hate floating on the air of death.
He stared at us, his followers, kneeled down on the grave.
Servants of mine. I bless thee for my resurrection he spoke before he flew away.