Alkosh weaves and pulls threads tight, a tapestry of endless time. He sees a snag and frowns. With a single claw he pierces the fabric, catching the snag and pulling it below. The threads realign.
I sing of that tapestry, of those tight threads of endless story. The priests of Pridehome sing with me, until our voices become harmony. But those who enter into the Pride of Alkosh will become the Dragon King's claws, to catch and pull those dangling threads.
They come to us as cubs, born under the dark eclipse. They are Forgotten Manes, destined to never rule. We give them purpose, guidance. We sing the words of Alkosh so that his wisdom may collect in their hearts like the bottom of an hourglass. These secret defenders who shall join the Pride of Alkosh.