[Intro]
[Floor toms march beneath muted guitars; brass enters only on every fourth bar.]
Count every face you still can recall.
Name every hand that raised you from a fall.
Bind every letter you fear may depart—
We climb where a dragon keeps memory as art.

[Verse 1]
Ash lay knee-deep on the Pilgrim’s Stair,
Small glass teeth in the sulphur air.
Each mountain gust spoke in voices they knew—
A mother, a captain, a lover untrue.
Mara heard brothers from her fallen command,
Calling her “Oathless” from under the land.
She climbed without answer, shield on her back,
Its crest still missing one merciful track.

[Marching Refrain]
Before the Memory Wyrm, speak what you defend.
A name at the beginning, a face at the end.
Before the Memory Wyrm, lock the red dice tight—
No throw in the cavern, whatever joins the fight.

[Verse 2]
Brunna named Dorrin though warmth would not rise,
Described his bent nose and the soot near his eyes.
Lark named each ballad he had not yet penned,
Then crossed out the verses that showed how they end.
Veyr named no patron, but named all four friends;
Tomas named spells he must never unbend.
Five vows climbed higher through acid-white snow:
[All]
“We carry the dice, but we do not throw.”

[Marching Refrain]
Before the Memory Wyrm, speak what you defend.
A name at the beginning, a face at the end.
Before the Memory Wyrm, lock the red dice tight—
No throw in the cavern, whatever joins the fight.

[Instrumental]
[Brass sustains the climbing theme while guitars imitate claws scraping inside the mountain.]

[Verse 3]
At the summit they found neither treasure nor gate,
Only mirrors arranged in a circular plate.
Each mirror held memories taken from kings:
First kisses in bottles, coronations in rings.
A child’s summer orchard turned slowly in glass;
A soldier’s last joke tried to mouth as they passed.
The central reflection showed five vacant thrones—
And a wyrm coiled asleep round mountains of bones.

[Bridge]
The dragon spoke softly without opening eyes:
[Choir]
“I do not hoard gold. Gold forgets who buys.
I gather the moments your species discards—
The first kindly answer, the last lowered guards.
Bring me the red dice and leave with your past,
Or carry them inward and learn what they cast.”

[Buildup]
Mara drew steel. Brunna tightened her chain.
Lark played one chord like a window in rain.
Veyr raised blue fire. Tomas whispered, “No throw.”
Five entered together where lost memories glow.

[Final Refrain]
Before the Memory Wyrm, they spoke what they’d defend:
A name at the beginning, a face at the end.
Before the Memory Wyrm, they locked the red dice tight—
But vows made on a mountainside grow lighter in a fight.
The brass doors closed behind them; the mirrors all went black.
Something vast unfolded where there was no turning back.
Then silver numbers glimmered through the leather fold—
And one young hand began to shake before the wyrm of old.

[Outro]
No dice had fallen. No debt had grown.
Yet Tomas heard them strike unseen stone.
Once for the living beneath the hill—
Twice for the power he feared to spill.