As grey traces of dawn tinge the eastern sky,|the three travelers, men of Willowdale,|emerge from the forest shadow.|Fording the River Dawn, they turn south, journeying|into the dark and forbidding lands of the Necromancer|Even now the intensity of his dread power can be felt,|weakening the body and saddening the heart|Ultimately they will become empty, mindless spectres...|stripped of will and soul, only|their thirst for freedom gives them hunger for vengeance...'||Silence shrouds the forest|As the birds announce the dawn|Three trav'llers ford the river|And southward journey on|The road is lined with peril|The air is charged with fear|The shadow of his nearness|Weighs like iron tears||[II. Under the Shadow]||'Shreds of black cloud loom in overcast skies.|The Necromancer keeps watch with his magic prism eyes.|He views all his lands and is already aware of the three helpless invaders|trapped in his lair...'||Brooding in the tower|Watching o'er his land|Holding ev'ry creature|Helplessly they stand|Gaze into his prisms|Knowing they are near|Lead them to the dungeons|Spectres numb with fear|They bow defeated||[III. Return Of the Prince]||'Enter the Champion|Prince By-Tor appears to battle for freedom from chains of long years|The spell has been broken...the Dark Lands are bright.|The Wraith of the Necromancer soars|away in the night.'||Stealthily attacking|By-Tor slays his foe|The men are free to run now|From labyrinths below|The Wraith of Necromancer|Shadows through the sky|Another land to darken|With evil prism eye|
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