Mist coils over the stones of forgotten fields

Ancient breath moving through hollow oaks

Runes flicker beneath the soil like restless embers

I follow the echo that has no beginning

Shadows rise from the cairns of nameless warriors

Their silence heavier than any armor

Wind cuts my skin with memories not mine

The earth murmurs truths I cannot hold

Call of the old world breaking through the dust

Roots twist around the pulse of the dusk

I walk where the spirits never fade

Lost in the rhythm only the ancients made

A single raven marks the path with intention

Wings brushing the veil between worlds

The moon cracks open like an ancient promise

Silver bleeding into the restless dark

Stone circles whisper with fractured voices

Fragments of stories that refuse to die

My steps awaken a hunger beneath the moss

A memory older than blood and bone

Call of the old world breaking through the dust

Roots twist around the pulse of the dusk

I walk where the spirits never fade

Lost in the rhythm only the ancients made

Wildfire dances along the ridge of the horizon

Carving shapes of gods long forgotten

I feel them watching through shattered time

Worn but relentless as the tide of ages

The sky trembles with a storm without thunder

A quiet that splits everything open

I raise my voice to the reaches between realms

And the night answers in a language of bone

Call of the old world breaking through the dust

Roots twist around the pulse of the dusk

I walk where the spirits never fade

Lost in the rhythm only the ancients made

A final breath stirs the leaves into knowing

Circles close, but the path continues

Every footstep becomes part of the old tale

And I fade into the cadence of eternity

Call of the old world breaking through the dust

Roots twist around the pulse of the dusk

I walk where the spirits never fade

Lost in the rhythm only the ancients made