To Cronia

"The seas, they're... they're whispering!"

The black sun rises over the northern sky

Our prow breaks the ice before us

The sea below lies stagnant, its foetid breath the air of dead men.

Their eyes stare up at us, pleading to join them

The icy grave melts under the foul mist, poisoned wind from the east

The final judgment of dead races past.

Ravens bite at their flesh, and spit it back out into the mire

to join their parasitic host again.

Worse fates await those who defile their blood and honour

Look to the farthest northern shores

Beyond Cronia, beyond the sea, beyond your dreams

To the frozen throne, where he awaits.

"And they passed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men,

and the wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole-star,

until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea."