Verse 12, Brynhildr
She is the grace of light
The grace of fire
The master of fire
A fire that lights the darkness, like a puff of smoke
A fire that rains down upon her defenceless prey
She is Brynhildr, the goddess fire, entombed within the crystal flower, entombed within the blood of a l'Cie
Blossoming from the crystal flower, she rises from the ground and faces the man who lost the will to fight
Blossoming from within the fiery crystal flower, summon from a fiery diamond glyph, the Eidolon set a test upon the grieving father
The fire, the light that was the tip of his violence
The violence, close to the edge, that will darken his heart and lead him astray
The fire, the light that showed another path
A path to hope
A hope to dream
A dream to make his dream, the impossible, possible
His desire to see his son renews his hope
For he closes the bridge of death
The fire, the light, washes away his sins and despair
Every Eidolon, every gift of Eidolon, must be earned rightfully by a l'Cie
Their greatest gift, their greatest power, cannot be robbed, but must be earned Eidolon, created by the goddess of Etro, lives within the blood of a l'Cie
Eidolon, a history deemed legend, a legend that sings with joy, the joy that brightens their darkest hours and the joy that pulls the l'Cie out of the tunnel filled with despair
Once a story, once a history, a history that becomes a legend
A legend that sings out the truth
Brynhildr, her grace is won
Brynhildr, her might of fire
Brynhildr, her grace that blocks the path to darkness
Brynhildr, her grace that blocks the path to death
Brynhildr, the gift of Eidolon, salvation of doom
Brynhildr, the Eidolon that resides within his blood
And the Eidolon that dwells upon the Nautilus Park, a place to dream, awaits his call.