GRISHNACKH: “Euronymous, you bastard, come out and face the night
You sold me out, your secret’s out, you can’t avoid this fight”
EURONYMOUS: “Varg, you fool, they lied to you, I would not betray my friend”
GRISHNACKH: “Then come outside, look me in the eye, and put my mind to rest”

From within the darkened depths, Euronymous emerged
The waxing moon outside hung low, and lit the scene with an eerie glow
Insults flew between the two, who once had sworn to stand
Side-by-side, brothers-in-arms, against the world until the end

GRISHNACKH: “You had planned to strike me down, to send me to join Dead
Would you place me, too, in a twisted pose, and hang the image by your bed?”
EURONYMOUS: “Or was it you, who plotted death, so envious of Faust?
Tell me Varg, how many times would you plunge the knife in my head?”

EURONYMOUS: “Go from here, and don’t turn back, or face the consequence”
And with that, Euronymous launched a kick at Grishnackh’s chest
With battle joined, the Count struck back, his knife pulled from its sheath
He stabbed his foe, who reeled with pain, and tried his best to leave

The Count gives chase
While Blackthorn waits

Pinning him at the foot of the stairs, Grishnackh snared his prey
Euronymous snarled like a cornered beast; he knew he’d had his day

Grishnackh stood above him
The blade came arcing down
Twenty-three times the knife bit flesh
They left him bleeding on the ground

Icy winds blow through the north
Tempers souls of men like steel
Fires of anger spread in waves
Pagan fury claims its first...kills (growled)