[Intro][Soft acoustic guitar and tagelharpa reprise the album motif slowly.]

[Verse 1 - Male Lead Narrator]
The gate did not fall, but it learned to bend,
Iron remembers where the proud laws end.
Some dead marched back to the training ground,
Some crossed the snow without a sound.
Odin sat where the torn maps burned,
One eye open, one lesson learned.
He did not weep, he did not yield,
He only counted a smaller field.

[Chorus]
The last horn under snow does not sing for war,
It calls to the homes we were stolen for.
The last horn under snow, low and clear,
Carries the names that the halls still fear.
If glory asks what mercy killed,
Remember why Valhalla must not be filled.

[Verse 2 - Female Lead Valkyrie]
I rode alone where the pine roads lean,
Past empty watchfires, cold and clean.
My wings were dark with smoke and rime,
My hands still smelled of broken time.
At a farmhouse door, a boy looked out,
Holding a toy shield rimmed with doubt.
I gave him no prophecy, no golden lie,
Only said, “Live well before you die.”

[Chorus]
The last horn under snow does not sing for war,
It calls to the homes we were stolen for.
The last horn under snow, low and clear,
Carries the names that the halls still fear.
If glory asks what mercy killed,
Remember why Valhalla must not be filled.

[Instrumental Break][Muted toms and acoustic guitar carry a slow marching reprise.]

[Bridge]
The wolf-chain cracks in the roots of the world,
The serpent turns where the black waves curl.
No song can stop what the old runes know,
No wing can bury the final snow.

[Bridge 2]
But one less war in a mortal field
Is one less soul for a hidden shield.

[Final Chorus]
The last horn under snow does not sing for war,
It calls to the homes we were stolen for.
The last horn under snow, low and clear,
Carries the names that the halls still fear.
If glory asks what mercy killed,
Remember why Valhalla must not be filled.

[Choir Coda]
The first horn called the chosen to steel,
The last horn asks the living to heal.

[Soft Female Outro]
Snow over Midgard, quiet and wide,
A spear in the mist, but no one replied.
Far above the fir trees, the old ravens wheeled,
And under the snow, the last horn sealed.
