Swift be my movements, bravery steadfast gripping. Unraveling threads of veiled truths, of lawless codes I must live, or die.

Nerves steeled from fate’s skein, tempered by fire and shadow both. Braced in darkness, growing bold, favor and fortune sacrificed, creed of courage the rising flame behind the pall drawn o’er Gaia.

Star-guided role embraced, championed of wit and determination. Knighted of truth, clarity piercing the darkened fog; rally the ranks, thus adjoined in purpose, be they wardens against evil.

Covert is my cause. Unseen, unheard, silence is my battle cry. Sword of silent drawing be the preemptive strike, the assassin’s dagger, the shadow to evil; I will strike first.

Pall of shadows veil me, cloaked in whispers, nature be my refuge. A warden against the tide of darkness, echoing on the wind, telling tale of the lone soul standing before you, undetectable, and unshakeable. Courageous be my virtue, swift striking be my blade.
Let the whispers serve as warning: this ghost is coming for you.

(Paragons excerpt, Volume iv)