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The Chalice of Kasr Myrak

The second song from the fall of Cadia The skies of Cadia bleed before the first shell starts to scream, I step forth from the lander, fueled by faith and promethium steam. In Kasr Myrak stands the pride of the Throne, in ranks so cold and deep, A sea of bayonets and iron souls, with promises to keep. I see the banners of the Gate, hammered firmly in the clay, Men and women carved of stone, holding the dark at bay. They know the wind is turning sour, they feel the distant roar, A warp-storm thirsting for our blood, knocking at the door. We are the Black Chalice, we drink the wrath of the Lord, In the shadows of Myrak, we unsheathe the holy sword. The Gate may tremble, the void may howl with spite and hate, But Cadia stands as long as one heart defies its fate! In the command posts, candles flicker, burning to the bone, Strategists over maps of war, in a silence made of stone. There I find a soldier, "Whiteshield" gleaming on her brow, Minka Lesk, with eyes of steel, taking her silent vow. She leads the young, the untempered, to a hero’s final light, While the shadows of the Traitor reach to choke the night. "Sister," she speaks softly, her grip on the lasgun tight and fast, "We hold this wall until the Emperor calls us home at last." The Eye is staring down, a maw of purple and of gold, The bells of doom are tolling, for the prophecy foretold. No fear within our prayers, just the heavy bolter’s beat, We are the anvil of His will, we shall not know retreat! We are the Black Chalice, we drink the wrath of the Lord, In the shadows of Myrak, we unsheathe the holy sword. The Gate may tremble, the void may howl with spite and hate, But Cadia stands as long as one heart defies its fate! The sky is fire. The earth is torn. Brother and sisters, hold the line. The Chalice is full. For the Emperor... as long as we draw breath. Cadia Stands.