The mountain speaks before it's seen,
A restless pulse beneath the peaks.
The sky is never truly still,
It bends and breaks to iron will.

The storm is not a thing we fear,
It's something every soul can hear.
A language carved in sound and flame,
A force that calls us by our name.

We don't resist the falling skies,
We rise within where power lies.
No shelter from what we've become—
The storm and we are now as one.

Daughters of the storm, we rise,
Lightning burning in our eyes.
With every strike, the world will feel,
The wrath and rhythm forged in steel.

Daughters of the storm, we stand,
Thunder beating through the land.
No force above, no ground below—
Only the power we control.

In Karthael, the fires roar,
Metal sings forevermore.
Forged in nights that split the sky,
Where sparks like falling stars collide.

Each strike a vow, each flame a test,
Only the strongest ever last.
The chaos shapes what we become,
A beating heart, a warlike drum.

Daughters of the storm, we rise,
Lightning carved across the skies.
Every heartbeat, every cry,
Echoes through the endless high.

Daughters of the storm, unleashed,
No more chains, no more peace.
When the thunder calls our name…
We become the storm again.

The storm is calling…
We answer…