The ceaseless rain and endless night, this cold and dark ending, and still the call: The hero hears his long forgotten name like a whisper rising over the thundering storm. Onward, onward, onward, is all he has, and so he forces his weary legs to bend. Though nearly blind and mostly deaf, the lightening blasts give him brief glimpses, and the call he still hears.
Awake, awake, awake, O dead man awake to be reborn.
They call his name, and though he had forgotten it for so long, he knows his name again.
Come, dead man, awake and be reborn.
Tale Told 