In the burning ashes of bold pyres,
An ancient beast slumbers in the dying embers,
Invoked by the foolish tongues of the arrogant blind,
Who play with its existence to weave a bloody tale—
A hollow fable to quiet the stubborn young at night.
Ignorant art thou who summons the vice in the leaping rage of sacred flames,
Singing of an insatiable maw that craves living flesh and the soul to take.
Tearing the lamb-hide, the empyrean Luna reveals the undying terror when the silvery zenith is claimed.
Howling in the vicious night, the mighty wind its spawn,
Stands a towering, feral giant—reveling in its bloodthirsty nature till Aurora claims the dawn.
Dim-witted by blind bravado, they reiterate the nightmare that once terrorized the distant lands of Benais, Auvergne, and Vivarais;
Retelling the tale of a beast who defines the demonic possession of Gilles Garnier, and the immolation of Peter Stumpp on the pyre's heights.
Hiding behind the hush of a thousand names, it haunts the moldy parchment of fabrication and flickering silver screens.
But carved in the blood-soaked marrow of history's page,
It is the Beast of Gévaudan—the unkillable fiend of man-eating terror and screams.
But even immortal nightmares have a tether, a flickering in the dark forever.
While Luna keeps the beast under her holy gaze, folklore sings of her bestowing mankind with the terror's only bane.
Brushed by the breath of the divine—Silver, the metal of sacred glow,
To cast the Vargr to eternal sleep and take its burning sorrow.
As Pourrat claimed in the days of yore,
When Jean Chastel stood as the liberator of Gévaudan,
And melted the medals of the Virgin pure,
To forge the bullet that broke the curse,
And brought the pleine lune-cursed satan down.