Your pyramid arrives, it must be fate,
You stand before the cultist’s gate,
Across the skin of your relic new,
A passcode that you can see through,
Read the message, could it be morse?
You’ll find it tells the tale, of course:

Each part holds a number, even and round,
These are the secrets that must be found,
Assemble them together, friend,
To receive this saga’s end!
A divination for you, alone,
For your sins to be atoned.

This prize beyond, that you spy?
There’s another when we go BYEEE!