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Frost is, the forge of the Noble...
It is, his reason for living.
Directs his fires through Winter...
Gives him, his true light...
But not, without cost...
Through loss, he finds the value...
The value of Law, eternal,
And the darkness of the heavens.
In cold Winteral might,
When Night is all the world,
The High One locks his eyes,
Upon the Polar Star...
For he knows, what has been,
And what, must become...
What must.. be destroyed,
And the storm, which is coming...
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