Pray It’s Us

There's something at your door. Pray it's us. Kaer Morhen, keep the embers bright; We take your lessons into night. A blade, a Sign, a measured breath - Not every hunt must end in death. The Wolf knows when the blade is wrong; Some hearts were human all along. We dance where heavy footsteps fail, A flash of silver, parting mail. You spit "assassin" in the square, Then pay us when nobody's there. Keep all your sermons. Name the fee. The Cat goes where you fear to be. Pray it's us outside your door, When the old prayers work no more. Different beasts upon our chains, Same bitter fire inside our veins. You can hate the hands you need - Every one of us can bleed. Curse our names in morning light. Pray it's us you hear tonight. Our towers fell; our word still stands. We carry thunder in our hands. One practiced Sign; the air gives way, And fire holds the dark at bay. The Griffin keeps what others sold: An oath that cannot turn to gold. No brother's promise takes the blow. No oath can warm a mile of snow. Let iron buckle, leather strain; We plant our boots and take the pain. The Bear won't kneel to claw or crown. You'll break your teeth before we're down. Two patient fangs, one measured breath; A drop of venom, quiet death. We wait beyond the torchlight's reach; No wasted motion, little speech. The Viper knows what crowns are worth: They promise stone and pay in earth. Pray it's us outside your door, When the old prayers work no more. Different beasts upon our chains, Same bitter fire inside our veins. You can hate the hands you need - Every one of us can bleed. Curse our names in morning light. Pray it's us you hear tonight. Across the dunes, beneath the glare, We count the souls still in our care. With silver shields and bitter brew, The claws must break us to reach you. Gold buys a sword. A shield does more. Stay close behind the Manticore. Where roads run out, the rigging sings; Death hunts below, and death has wings. A tether tight, a steady hand, We take the hunt beyond the land. Let powder thunder, let waves roar - The Crane brings sailors back to shore. Some of us have earned your hatred. Some have died to prove it wrong. When the last medallion falls silent... Who will answer when we're gone? Let old tracks vanish under snow; There are still roads no elders know. We wear the mark, but choose the way; No dead man's hate will name our prey. No borrowed fate. No borrowed throne. The Lynx will make this Path its own. Pray it's us outside your door, When the old prayers work no more. Different beasts upon our chains, Same bitter fire inside our veins. You can hate the hands you need - Every one of us can bleed. Curse our names in morning light. Pray it's us you hear tonight. Pray it's us. Now... about the coin.