In taverns of midnight, the whispers began Of a figure who conquered with a smile, not a hand With strings of low thunder, he carved out the air And a beard like a banner, a crown he would wear They called him Kavanhus, the God of the flame Of laughter, of longing, of unspoken names A shadow, a story, a secret untold A mortal made legend, a myth made of gold No throne, no crown, no kingdom to keep Just a song in the night, where the faithful would weep His gaze was a torch, his voice was the sea A storm and a silence where hearts longed to be Kavanhus, lord of the bearded light A God who was born in the echoes of night No temple, no altar, yet hearts bowed down For the cavanhaque became his crown Kavanhus, lord of the bearded flame A myth that was carved in the sound of his name No temple, no altar, yet hearts still sing For Kavanhus reigns as an endless king The maidens would gather, the stories would grow Of a God with no kingdom, yet power to bestow Not riches, not glory, nor blades to defend But the fire of presence, that never would end Through laughter and shadows, through silence and cheers He carried the weight of the fleeting years No mortal, no myth, could ever compare To the God of the beard, who still lingers there Kavanhus, lord of the bearded light A God who was born in the echoes of night No temple, no altar, yet hearts bowed down For the cavanhaque became his crown Kavanhus, lord of the bearded flame A myth that was carved in the sound of his name No temple, no altar, yet hearts still sing For Kavanhus reigns as an endless king In the hush of the night, his story remains A God born of laughter, of joy, not of chains Kavanhus, eternal, where shadows belong A whisper, a legend, a beard and a song