[Intro]
[Guitar harmonics ring like glass vessels while the dragon theme curls around the five-note motif.]
Inside each mirror, a morning was stored,
A mother’s first cradle, a traitor’s last word.
The wyrm raised its head from a century’s keep:
“Which memory buys you permission to leave?”

[Verse 1]
Its scales held reflections instead of flame,
Each plate showed a face and whispered a name.
Mara struck first; her blade met a year—
She saw her old order and lowered the spear.
Brunna swung hard at the hinge of its jaw,
Then saw Dorrin laughing in bright mountain thaw.
Lark lost his rhythm to futures untrue,
While Veyr’s patron stared from each eye of blue.

[Pre-Chorus]
Tomas raised both hands, but the spell turned thin;
The dragon drew every remembered word in.
[Choir]
“Your magic is terror taught how to behave.
Throw once for glory—throw twice for the grave.”

[Chorus]
In the vault that remembers, nothing truly dies;
Every stolen morning watches through a dragon’s eyes.
Break the glass and choose it, let the buried moments flood—
But every recollection has a root that drinks in blood.
In the vault that remembers, all forgotten voices burn;
You may purchase any victory—no payment will return.

[Verse 2]
The wyrm spread one wing and the cavern bent,
Five weapons fell as their strength was spent.
It opened a mirror the color of rust:
Gods round a table carving knuckles to dust.
[Choir]
“They made those dice when creation was young,
To edit each battle their pride had begun.
Mortals found fragments when god-blood grew cold;
Now every new casting makes their murderer whole.”

[Pre-Chorus]
Mara cried, “Tomas, leave the leather bound!”
But the dragon’s tail drove all four to the ground.
Below in the valley, war horns replied;
One throw could save thousands trapped mountainside.

[Chorus]
In the vault that remembers, nothing truly dies;
Every stolen morning watches through a dragon’s eyes.
Break the glass and choose it, let the buried moments flood—
But every recollection has a root that drinks in blood.
In the vault that remembers, all forgotten voices burn;
You may purchase any victory—no payment will return.

[Break]
[All instruments stop except two bone clicks and Tomas’s klohs voice.]
First die: one.
Second die: two.
The dragon drew breath.
The mountain split through.
Tomas snatched both bones before Mara could save—
[Tomas]
“Once was not glory. Then twice for the grave.”

[Buildup]
The first throw failed and the wyrm’s fire came,
Not burning their bodies, but stripping each name.
Tomas cast again through the colorless blaze;
Two sixes rose silver and stopped in their gaze.

[Instrumental]
[Double-kick drums and ascending twin guitars drive the dice motif into a twelve-note climax.]

[Bridge]
Every mirror shattered at once in the vault,
A million lost moments escaped from the salt.
The wyrm aged backward from ancient to egg,
Then bone, then white powder beneath Tomas’s leg.
He laughed—and Mara asked who he was.
He opened his mouth. There was no name because—

[Final Chorus]
In the vault that remembers, every prison broke,
Childhoods poured like rivers through the sulphur smoke.
The dragon fell to powder; the valley lived below,
While two perfect silver sixes held the world inside their glow.
In the vault that remembers, victory wore a stain:
Tomas saved ten thousand, but could not speak his name.
And far beneath the mountain, every cradle lost ten years—
The dice had found their payment in a valley’s sudden tears.

[Outro]
The mirrors went dark. The red bones cooled.
Five stood alive where a god’s law ruled.
Mara called him “Tomas.” He answered, “Who?”
Outside, children woke with a decade gone through.
