To Balwûr I entrust, with bitter tongue

A terrible work

Daughter of Savathûn, untouched by time

Your death is hidden well


You will be Suzerain of Metabolisms

Gather up the Lie Shapes

Neither eat nor mock them, as you crave

Instead, learn to chew them into poisons


Craft for me a flawless armor word

Separate the death from the dying

Cut the shadow apart from the fire

Make the fire burn hot


Arm us with weapons against our foe

Arm my court for the long crusade