“Oath of the Rowanfire”

[Intro] (wind + distant chanting)
Through mist-veiled hills where standing stones remember,
I hear the old names waking in the ember.
Awen… breathe it into me—
let the earth sing, let the sea set free.

[Verse 1]
Born where the heather cuts the sky,
where ravens draw their circles high,
I learned to read the river’s spine,
and drink the storm like sacred wine.

The clans were split by ancient grief,
each banner swore a blood-belief,
and iron crowns on cold brows gleamed
like broken promises in dreams.

[Pre-Chorus] (rising)
Now the druids strike the oak-wood drum,
the hill-forts answer—one by one,
and in my hands the rowan burns:
a fire that heals, a fire that turns.

[Chorus] (huge, galloping power-metal beat)
Raise the blades to the dawn—then lower them to the land!
Swear the Oath of the Rowanfire, written by the wild’s own hand!
Let the lightning crown the mountain, let the sea-wind carve our names—
We are more than feuds and funerals,
we are song inside the flames!

Hey! Hey! (tribal choir)
One sky, one stone, one heart aflame!

[Verse 2]
Beyond the bog, in moonlit fen,
I saw the Sidhe—the hidden kin,
their silver eyes like winter stars,
their whispers soft as distant wars:

“Three times the horn, three times the bell—
a gate will crack, a shadow swell.
If hatred leads, the world will fall;
if mercy leads, you break the thrall.”

[Pre-Chorus 2] (tighter guitars, faster drums)
So I run to the circle’s core,
where the standing stones are carved with lore,
and every rune upon my skin
is a vow to end what might begin.

[Chorus]
Raise the blades to the dawn—then lower them to the land!
Swear the Oath of the Rowanfire, written by the wild’s own hand!
Let the lightning crown the mountain, let the sea-wind carve our names—
We are more than feuds and funerals,
we are song inside the flames!

Hey! Hey! (tribal choir)
One sky, one stone, one heart aflame!

[Bridge] (half-time, cinematic—piano + dark strings)
I have buried kings in silence,
I have watched love turn to ash,
and every “victory” I tasted
was a thorn behind the mask.

If the war-god calls me “daughter,”
if the Iron Prince calls me “bride,”
I’ll choose the road the poets promised—
where the living need not hide.

(whispered, with airy choir)
Awen…
Carry me…
Awen…
Make me brave…

[Solo] (guitar lead + pipes/violin harmony, then full orchestra lift)
A spiraling melody: whistle → guitar → orchestra,
like a spell growing into a storm.

[Final Chorus] (maximum epic: double choir, full orchestra, key change)
Raise the blades to the dawn—then lower them to the land!
Swear the Oath of the Rowanfire—now the clans will understand!
Let the thunder shake the hill-forts, let the white stag lead the way—
We are more than feuds and funerals,
we are dawn that will not fade!

Hey! Hey! (tribal choir + crowd)
One sky, one stone, one heart—TODAY!

[Outro] (harp + fading choir)
In the rowan’s red and the moon’s pale gold,
the oath is made… and the old hate grows cold.
Through mist-veiled hills where standing sto