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A ballad composed by Olvus at the Bard's College about my rise to leadership in the Dark Brotherhood.

Lyrics:
Summoned in shadow of wicked lament,
Baptised in blood by that dark sacrament.
Seized in the night by the light of the moon,
Exacting the knife for the Blood Flower's boon.
Darkness divine with hands like a cloud,
Swift storming beneath a burial shroud.

Mercy, she wrought, for the hand that performed;
And silently spoke to the Listener, sworn.
A voice like the grave spoke a solemn decree,
A deathly crusade made for all kin to see.
A grisly campaign that would sing of her might,
A worshipful verse to the hymn of the night.
The harvest was bleak 'cross the blood imbrued snow,
And whispers of dread plotted terror to grow.

At last the knife struck, the blood prey came to fall;
But the Emperor's best did descend on them all.
But folly was theirs, for the Dark Mother's fare;
To strangle the tricksters within their own snare.
The Listener's blade whirled and danced in moonlight,
And the Spectres all fell to the song of the night.
Then dreaded dusk fell like a harsh final breath,
The night that would end with the Emperor's death.
The chambers were still at the darkenest hour,
And Titus was felled by the Listener's power.

Silence still speaks through the dagger kept near,
Sweet mother, sweet mother, thy children hold dear.