Winter of Kreisha

When harvest failed and rivers froze, She walked where bitter north wind blows. Not warmth, not mercy, not relief — But silver silence, sharp as grief. She sent the plague. She sent the snow. She watched to see which hearts would grow. She does not save. She does not shield. She tests the ones who will not yield. Winter bites — we do not yield. Ice reveals what hearts conceal. Stand unbroken, cold and wise — Kreisha reigns — and we arise. Kreisha reigns — and we arise. The soft ones fall beneath the white, Their whispers lost in endless night. Her wolves move silent through the plain, They feast on weakness, fear, and pain. But one stands steady in the gale, Her breath like frost, her spirit pale. Through hunger’s blade and winter’s scar, She learns at last what strong hearts are. Winter bites — we do not yield. Ice reveals what hearts conceal. Stand unbroken, cold and wise — Kreisha reigns — and we arise. Kreisha reigns — and we arise. Let hunger carve the fragile bone. Let ice reveal what stands alone. Let sorrow strip the weak disguise — Let truth be born in frozen skies. If we endure the cutting wind, The White Wolf marks us kin. Winter bites — we do not yield. Ice reveals what hearts conceal. Stand unbroken, cold and wise — Kreisha reigns — and we arise. Winter bites — we still remain. Forged by loss and winter’s pain. Through the storm our fates are tied — Kreisha reigns — at our side. Kreisha reigns… Kreisha reigns…