tough sail
In the cold cradle of the Void, they stir,
Silent children of a war long lost,
Awoken from centuries of slumber,
Bound by steel, by grief, by ghostly cost.
Warframes, clad in shifting iron and bone,
Dance through star systems torn and frayed,
Ghosts of bodies long forgotten,
Yet in them, the galaxy’s debts are paid.
The Lotus speaks, her voice a shadowed hymn,
Guiding warriors through the endless night,
A mother, a prisoner, a secret keeper,
Her motives hidden in the fracture of light.
Corpus greed and Grineer steel collide,
Infested horrors crawl from broken dreams,
And yet, the Tenno strike with blade and light,
Ripping through the dark with silent screams.
Orokin whispers linger in abandoned halls,
Golden towers fallen to ash and rust,
Echoes of glory, hubris, and betrayal,
A civilization undone by its lust.
In every mission, a fragment of truth,
A memory buried deep beneath the pain,
Of who they were, who they fight for,
And the shadowed war they cannot contain.
The stars may burn, the galaxies fall,
But Tenno rise, eternal and unseen,
Bound to the Void, to each other, to purpose,
Ghosts of war in a universe between.
unborn crow