| Far-away echos accompany the dim lights of torches
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| Old and mighty trees twine along the holy way of an ancient procession
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| Simple but obscure songs are murmured in the deep arboreal temple
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| Only two mighty blades shine in the reflection of fire
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| From our directions come the old sages, each with his number and each carrying
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| his ancestor’s
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| Treasures
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| Everything repeats as in an old prophecy marked by a vision donated by the
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| Spirit of Nature
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| And nothing is quiet in the dark heart of the forest
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| It’s inhabitants voices
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| The breed of the trees and the men’s mantra are part of a unique great ritual
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| Nothing is quiet… nothing
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| The four shining serpents slowly draw near to form a circle following the
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| rhythm of
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| Dark and deep rumbles like the heartbeats of a huge dragon as he is drawing near
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| Everything wheels in an alchemist dance, where the symbols will become laws
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| preserved
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| By a family of sages, the men of the oaks
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| Four serpents united and became one circular serpents, just one in the ancient
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| nemeton
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| Where each man was near his stones and symbols
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| Now, everything is silent in the large forest
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| And even the magical lights of the flames seem to burn out in the silence
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| In the circle of men and stones, only the oldest one begins to sing a new but
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| terrible prophecy |