The Wind Remembers

Silver leaves, a crimson dawn, I heard the dead before they came. I stood where Silvermoon was burning, Ranger-General, bow in hand. The gates broke wide, the sky stopped turning, Ash fell cold across my land. Arthas raised his cursed blade And tore the breath from what I was. He did not grant me rest or grave - He chained my cry to his dark cause. My heartbeat gone, my memory near, A kingdom drowned inside one tear. I am the wound that will not close, The black wind through the deadened rose. He stole my life, he scarred my name, But could not make my hatred tame. For Quel'Thalas, for every flame, I wear the night, I bear the shame. Banshee Queen, but still I mourn The woman I was before I was torn. I watched my sisters fade behind me, Heard my homeland call in vain. Every order wrapped around me, Iron fingers in my brain. Yet in the dark, a spark kept breathing, Not alive, but not erased. When his frozen grip was weakening, I turned my chains into a blade. Do not call this resurrection. Do not name this mercy won. I am grief without direction, I am night denied the sun. Silvermoon, your bells still find me Through the silence of the grave. What he broke still burns inside me. What he bound will not behave. I am the wound that learned to rise, The storm behind unblinking eyes. He stole my life, he scarred my name, I forged a crown out of the pain. For Quel'Thalas, for all he stole, I keep the ruins of my soul. Banshee Queen, forever torn - Still mourning who I was before. No rest. No home. No rest. No home. Only the wind remembers.