The Flame Endures

Verse I

Born where the frost breaks iron bones,

Under ash and embered skies,

A child of snow, of dragon’s ghost,

With fire buried in his eyes.

They taught him silence, taught him pain,

Named him curse before his name,

But wolves don’t beg, and wolves don’t kneel—

They rise, they bite, they claim.

Pre-Chorus

Hear the chain beneath the skin,

Hear the old Valyrian call,

Stone remembers every oath

Scratched in blood along the wall.

Chorus

So sing the Dreadwolf, iron-clad,

Ashen Maw and burning will,

Fire beneath the northern stars,

The flame endures—unbroken still.

Let kings take crowns and liars pray,

He walks where fear has always dwelled,

For when the world forgets its strength,

The Dreadwolf stands.

The flame endures.

Verse II

Steel was heavier than a crown,

Truth cut deeper than a blade,

He learned that mercy has a cost

And power must be paid.

The armor whispers, ancient, cruel,

Of brothers lost and gods denied,

But he does not drown in ghostly screams—

He makes the darkness kneel outside.

Pre-Chorus

Wolf and dragon, oath and scar,

Fate was never kind or clean,

Yet fire survives in shattered things,

And so does he.

Chorus

So sing the Dreadwolf, storm-born son,

Fifteen winters, forged in flame,

The North remembers what he is

Even if the South speaks shame.

Let swords be drawn and banners fall,

Let cowards flee, let brave men yell,

For when the night demands a price,

The Dreadwolf pays.

The flame endures.

Bridge

No hatred for the small or weak—

Only pity, cold and clear,

For power wasted on cruelty

Is the mark of lesser fear.

He does not rage, he does not boast,

He does not chase a throne,

He is the answer the dark receives

When it knocks on stone.

Final Chorus

So sing the Dreadwolf, name him true,

Not a monster—nor a god,

But what survives when worlds collapse

And truth still walks the sod.

Ash to ash and wolf to fire,

Let history learn this well:

Empires rot and crowns turn dust—

But the Dreadwolf stands.

The flame endures.

Outro (soft, almost whispered)

Remember this when fires fade

And songs are all that’s left to tell—

He was not born to end the world…

He was born

So something

Would.