Through a dark and desolate valley he walks   Pale, flickering fires light the way   Along an ice cold river lies his path   The sky is of darkest grey      A cold wind pierce through his bones   And the sharp rocks cut his feet   His clothes and skin are ripped by thorns   His eyes appear to bleed”      The land is dead and dry   The water is poisonous   Unknown creatures howling to the sky   Blood chilling and ravenous      The air is thick and dense   A smell of rotting flesh   Every breath is like one thousand knives   Cutting through his chest      Black birds of prey circle the sky   He hears the shadows moan   He sees pale faces pass him by   But he walkds this path alone      Darkness fills his heart with chilling fear   A nameless fear he cannot quell   How did he ever end up here?   This place where death seems to dwell      He repeats the question in his weary mind   The riddle gives him no rest   Yet he knows the answer deep inside   He’s been touched by the chill of death      Enchating voices urge him on   Though he wants to turn around   They sing to him with soothing words   A chilling, frightening sound      A cold blue ligh shimmer ahead   Where a mountain reaches for the sky   Nidafjell, mountain of the dead   Terrifying it’s might      He approach the gates   His heart is cold   He understands all to well   She awaits him   The truth unfolds   He’s been sent to Nifelhel