The forest weeps in whispers low,
                                                     Where no sun dares its light to show.
                                                     Its boughs like claws, its roots like chains,
                                                     A labyrinth of cursed remains.

                                                     A thousand eyes in darkness gleam,
                                                     Mocking faith and broken dreams.
                                                     The air is thick with death’s perfume,
                                                     A sweet decay, a living tomb.

                                                     I clutch a lantern, faint and frail,
                                                     Its flicker lost in the endless veil.
                                                     Its flame, my guide, my fragile breath,
                                                     A fleeting shield against the death.

                                                     The wolves of night howl prayers profane,
                                                     To gods long gone, to blood-soaked reigns.
                                                     And yet I press through bramble's sting,
                                                     A specter’s path, a hollow thing.

                                                     Once, this place was green with life,
                                                     Untouched by steel, unmarred by strife.
                                                     But time devours with greedy maw,
                                                     Its mercy gone, its justice flawed.

                                                     Now shadows writhe where beauty stood,
                                                     A kingdom drowned in ash and wood.
                                                     I march alone, my purpose grim,
                                                     A fading hymn in the forest dim.

                                                     No triumph waits, no fate divine,
                                                     Just silence where the stars align.
                                                     For in this world, the brave must tread,
                                                     Through lands where even gods have fled.