Apocrypha is calling Like Nirncrux within Craglorn's mines Knowledge lies embedded within the mortal mind So like a pickaxe digging deep I crack into their thoughts in search of what I can find I am the voice whispering When it looks like no one’s there I am the eyes watching you All your secrets lying bare Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora The gardener of men Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora Trickster of the Woodland Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora Speak my name again Hoarding answers within my realm A fathomless catacomb of truth With ancient servants categorizing The scrolls and tomes that are strewn Dive into the wretched abyss Halls lined with books like scales Twisting towards infinity Down an endless trail I am the voice whispering When it looks like no one’s there I am the eyes watching you All your secrets lying bare Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora The gardener of men Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora Trickster of the Woodland Herma-Mora, Herma-Mora Speak my name again Ever-famished, ever-craving The maw opens to consume Information, never-ending That my thralls exhume Tentacles weaved between the threads of fate itself Esoteric prophecies filling every winding shelf No mysteries shall remain As my tendrils probe and pry Even in the blackest darkness There is nothing that can hide I know the unknown I guard the unseen An omniscient master Seeking an emissary Fate’s Proxy Gaze into the Black Book Open your fragile intellect Growing madder with each look You will see what few have ever seen As you serve your Eldritch king The Call of Apocrypha Rooting indelibly inside Submerge yourself beneath the murky tide You are my Champion Free will, a grand illusion This bleak enlightenment Refusal, your delusion Heed the call Heed the call Heed the call Heed the call