Called by a winter chant
Summon the ancient kings
A nameless fetid sin
Lies in the chilly air
I watch the gods of chaos
On their way through northern lands
The wind was freezing cold
And the sky was ruled by flames
A winter storm filled my wings
And I flew aloft to follow them
I rode the wind through the night
And knew that I was the chosen
A winter chant grips for my soul
The seven kings of the new aeon
Gathered in this pagan land
I followed their speechless calls
I was their disciple and heir
A winter chant grips for my soul

("Nifelheim")