In the silent womb of twilight's grace,
We heed the hush of boundless space.
A single spark in darkness born,
Foretells the rise of crimson morn.
All fates converge upon this land,
Where iron hearts and dreams expand.
In shadows deep, a whisper grows,
The tapestry of ages shows.
Thus dawn doth part the shrouded night,
And in that glow, begins our fight.
Behold the tale soon wrought by hands,
Where souls shall forge both doom and plans.