The autumn moon shines full above Foretelling
trials and blackest gloom. Time draws near to
flee in fear Or face the fate of certain doom.
Many heed the oracle; others door and casement
bar Against the force which rises here, Awakened
by the evening star. Incarnate evil stirs to
life, Long in dormant depths of slumber, To rise
in dire sudden wrath And drive the world of man asunder.
In deepest dark of blackest night, The
withering wind of winter moans. The
Dark Lord summons forth the wraiths
Who sleep beneath their crypts of stone.
Drawn from tomb and shallow
grave, The restless dead emerge
in answer. Shadows clad in steel
and sable Kneel before the necromancer.
The Beast demands a sacrifice: A single
maiden, pure and clean. Incubus threatens
to unleash his fury Unless satisfied with
a queen. Onward three leagues the chosen
ones march, Abandoning hope, departing in
haste. Whipping my steed, in sheer madness
I speed: A desperate venture, no time left to waste.
Short of time, with tortured mind, I
march across the crimson field, To