In the garden where shadows pray,

Ashes bloom beneath the clay.

Whispers rise from hollow ground,

Where silence wears a thorned crown.

Kneel before the bleeding stone,

Where blood and vow are carved in bone.

In dusk’s dominion, rites unfold—

The covenant is cold, is old.

Through the mist with lantern eyes,

A figure draped in night still cries.

Feathers black, a watcher near,

Breathes the oath of pain and fear.

Kneel before the bleeding stone,

Where blood and vow are carved in bone.

In dusk’s dominion, rites unfold—

The covenant is cold, is old.

Torches flicker, fire wanes,

Circles drawn with ancient stains.

Chains of will, the soul is torn,

Bound to dusk, forever sworn.

Kneel before the bleeding stone,

Where blood and vow are carved in bone.

In dusk’s dominion, rites unfold—

The covenant is cold, is old.

Winds howl secrets from the pyre,

Tongues of flame in funeral choir.

A raven chants the rite’s refrain,

In hunger, loss, and sacred pain.

Now the crow shall not depart—

Its cry is etched into the heart.

By tomb and talon, dusk has grown…

The covenant is carved in stone.