From the frozen wastes, the riders come,
A horde of specters, with a chilling drum.
In the dead of night, they claim their prize,
With a haunting cry, under moonlit skies.
Wild Hunt, fierce and cold,
In the shadow of terror, stories unfold.
With ghostly steeds and armor bright,
They bring the fear, in the darkest night.
Through the realms they ride, with endless stride,
In the wake of doom, none can hide.
In the heart of the storm, their legend grows,
With every raid, their power shows.
Wild Hunt, fierce and cold,
In the shadow of terror, stories unfold.
With ghostly steeds and armor bright,
They bring the fear, in the darkest night.