Lyrics

They say he walks where embers fade, a ghost of flame, a curse unmade. A warlock clad in fire and ash, his steps a spark, his foes a flash. No banner claimed him, none called friend, yet whispered fear would mark his end. From Crossroads dust to Silverpine’s gloom, his legend smolders, wreathed in doom.

O heed the tale, ye gathered near, of burning wrath and whispered fear. A fire that walks, a blade that sings, a warlock bound to darker things.

In Barrens’ heart where dry winds moan, a traveler stood—yet not alone. The air grew cold, the fire burned bright, though neither cast nor welcomed light. The trolls who watched would shake their heads, "The spirits whisper, the flames have bled." In Ratchet’s streets where pirates fell, the only proof—a scorch and smell.

A Forsaken blade, a piercing glare, yet none recall if eyes were there. The Void did call, the demons bowed, yet none would speak his name aloud. The Imp once shrieked and fled in fear, "Not master’s will, but something near!" The Succubus danced, her voice so sweet, but echoed words none dared repeat.

O heed the tale, ye gathered near, of burning wrath and whispered fear. A fire that walks, a blade that sings, a warlock bound to darker things.

At Hillsbrad’s gates where soldiers stood, they found the ash, they smelled the wood. No bodies left, no cries remained, just scorched earth where the warlock reigned. A flame that did not warm nor spread, a firestone clutched in hands long dead. The whispers spoke, but none knew where—was it the wind, or was he there?

In tavern halls the drink runs slow, when echoes of his presence grow. No bard has seen, no scribe has penned, yet all agree—he walks again. Some claim he burned, some claim he fled, some swear he walks though long since dead. But if ye hear the fire’s breath, best turn away—or share his death.

O heed the tale, ye gathered near, of burning wrath and whispered fear. A fire that walks, a blade that sings, a warlock bound to darker things.

Some say he was never here at all, just tricks of light, a shadow tall. But should the firestone blaze anew, the warlock’s fate belongs to you.