---

Six years as a hostage

in the culture most fatal.

Robbed from his father at a young age,

taught their ways to pray satan.

Slept every night for years

with a saber on his throat.

Amongst the monsters he was raised by fear

to make him forget where he came from.

The sultan's court was a gilded cage

where he learned all of their ways.

Their brutal tactics and the forces they prayed

but he would never accept the enemy's faith.

He shed every night bloody tears

not knowing if he'd see tomorrow.

Despite the fangs that were prowling in the dark

he never forgot his Christian roots.

Born of fire, but bound in steel,

under the sultan’s hand forced to kneel.

But he'll become a leader, forged in pain,

and all the banners of the sultan will burn in flames

all over Wallachia.

He swore the crescent moon one day won't shine

over Wallachian towns, over its midnight sky

over Danube.

His life was young, but his soul grew old

trapped in the presence of the enemy so cruel and cold.

In the sultan's palace halls of gold and sin,

with constant fear of death he'd dream of the day

when the bells of freedom would ring.