If you are travelling to Cannaer
that bleak land of eternal ice
Turn back if for your life you care
lest like some fools you pay the price

Bereft of sun, devoid of life
there laughter dies and mirth is quenched
filled with a spavined air of strife
and horrid beasts with teeth aclenched

The land lays still, no voice is heard
ancient silence fills the air
No tree there lives, no beast, no bird
in the frozen wasteland bare

Inside the citadel of ice
winds moan with memories of dread
In every hallway ghostly eyes
shed silent tears to mourn the dead

In the great hall, upon her throne
rests the queen of ice eternal
Her eyes that once like diamonds shone
burn now with a glow infernal

Upon her head a sparkling crown
made from the bones of those who dared
Below her feet, their eyes cast down
crawl the unfortunates she spared

She sits there, patiently awaiting
the phantoms of her memories
Her icy heart anticipating
the moment of her soul's release

In dungeons deep and towers high
faint wisps of music float like snow
She sings an endless lullaby
performs a spectral dance of woe

Her reign shall last for evermore
all will be as it was before
And bleak Cannaer will always be
a place where death is luxury.