The Ritual
Deep within the forest’s core, lies a circle on the floor,
A place where shadows come to play,
where ancient rituals hold sway.
Candles flicker in the breeze, whispers echo through the trees,
A coven gathers in the dark, to summon forces from the stark.
Blood is spilled in sacrifice, shadows rise with chilling eyes,
Chants that fill the midnight air,
summoning spirits with a stare.
The forest groans with ancient dread, as the ritual calls the dead,
Figures twist in ghostly grace, haunting every sacred space.
In the circle where shadows dance, a ritual of dark romance,
Voices rise in haunted hymn, pulling spirits from the grim.
Beware the forest’s sacred ground, where ancient secrets are unbound,
For those who seek the ritual’s power,
find themselves in darkest hour.
The coven’s spell lingers on, a tale of power, darkness drawn,
In the circle where shadows fell, lies a story none can tell.