Albums/
Celtic Mythology/
String of the Gods
"Battleborn: The Second War of Mag Tuired" is a fierce retelling of one of the most pivotal battles in Irish mythology—the legendary Second Battle of Mag Tuired, where the divine warriors of the Tuatha Dé Danann rose against the monstrous Fomorians to decide the fate of Ireland.
This epic conflict wasn’t just a clash of armies—it was a war between order and chaos, light and shadow, civilization and tyranny. Led by gods and heroes such as Dagda, Lugh, and Nuada of the Silver Hand, the Tuatha fought not only for survival, but to reclaim their rightful place as protectors of the land. Their enemies, the Fomorians—twisted, powerful beings from the sea and underworld—sought only conquest and dominion.
In this mythic saga, the battlefield becomes sacred ground, where destinies are forged in fire and blood. It is said that during the battle, Lugh struck down Balor of the Evil Eye, the fearsome Fomorian king, fulfilling a prophecy and turning the tide in favor of the Tuatha Dé Danann.
Battleborn
Drums of war, the sky turns black,
Steel meets steel, there's no turning back.
The Tuatha rise, their banners fly,
Against the Fomorians, we will die!
The ground shakes, the heavens roar,
A battle fierce like none before.
Battleborn, the fight begins,
Swords of fury, war within.
We march as one to face the night,
Under the blood-red skies, we fight!
Fomorian beasts, with eyes of flame,
Their twisted forms, they’ll never claim.
The land will burn, the seas will rage,
The gods will watch as we engage.
The ground shakes, the heavens roar,
A battle fierce like none before.
Battleborn, the fight begins,
Swords of fury, war within.
We march as one to face the night,
Under the blood-red skies, we fight!
Double-kicks, the war drums pound,
Clashing forces shaking ground.
Through endless carnage, we shall stand,
The Tuatha will not break their hand!
The ground shakes, the heavens roar,
A battle fierce like none before.
Battleborn, the fight begins,
Swords of fury, war within.
We march as one to face the night,
Under the blood-red skies, we fight!
The Fomorians fall, their blood is spilled,
Yet still the battle’s fire is filled.
The Tuatha fight with rage untamed,
In Mag Tuired, we carve our name.
The drums will fade, but we remain,
A battleborn in death and pain.
When the storm has passed us by,
We’ll know our names will never die!