The village of Cirra, so quiet and calm,

Now lost and forgotten, enchanted realm.

The colors so cheerful are hiding within

The memories buried, the torture unseen.

Anonymous stranger, who’s just passing through,

Stop, listen to silence, it’s talking to you.

You’ll hear the legend, a call of long dead;

It’s simple and tragic like ruins ahead.

The army had come to this place long ago

And hopes were burned down by fire of war.

With future destroyed and the memories torn

The child had survived and the goddess was born.

She’s now a force made of fire and pain,

She is every feeling that rage can contain,

She’s cruel and bitter, unable to change.

She welcomes the fury; she lives for revenge.

Don’t cry for her, stranger, it’s useless right now.

She’s poisoned by hate; it fulfilled her somehow.

The beautiful creature, ice-cold underneath,

She won’t accept neither pity, nor grief.

But maybe her heart still is able to feel,

And that’s why if wind stirs this place, cold and still,

You hear the voice filled with worry and care,

Callisto… Callisto… But no one is there.