Westward into the nameless realm An ancient secret sworn to protect Fueling a continent with the fruits of The sea, bounty from a clandestine land Carving mighty northern frost Into the storm coast Hidden behind horizons Shrouded in mystery, this mass is pure, meadows lush with riches Tribal tongues are echoed, words remain on the shore A saga of seclusion told in the accent of the tides From Euskadi to Hyperborea, leaving Finisterra behind