The Striga

[Verse I] A kingdom shrouded in a crimson gloom, Where whispers haunt a royal tomb. A father mourns beneath the throne, For blood he loves but’s never known. The Witcher comes at dead of night, Called to end the monstrous blight— A child twisted by a curse’s hand, A shadow stalking through the land. [Pre-Chorus] But in the king’s eyes burns a truth unspoken, A heart still clinging to the hope unbroken… [Chorus] Oh, daughter of the midnight tomb, Born of sorrow, shaped by doom, He walks the line ’tween death and grace To free the crown from its embrace. Though fear commands the kingdom’s breath, He will not trade her fate for death. [Verse II] In marble halls where torches glare, A serpent hides in perfumed air. A scheming courtman stains the night, A cloak of lies his chosen rite. He offers gold to twist the blade, To slay the cursed without crusade— But the Witcher’s vow is forged in steel, No bribe can bend what he must heal. [Pre-Chorus] For honor stands where shadows fall, And he will not betray the call… [Chorus] Oh, daughter of the midnight tomb, A kingdom prays to see your bloom. He stands alone against the roar Of bloodlust shaking castle floor. For though your form is bound by night, Your soul still flickers, pale with light. [Bridge – The Battle of the Crypt] The dusk gives way to howling stone, The crypt awakens with a groan. She bursts from darkness wild and feral, A nightmare born of lineage sterile. Claws collide with silver gleam, A dance of fury in the scream. He bleeds through armor torn and frayed, Yet holds the spell the moonlight made. [Break – The Curse Breaks] He fights not death, but destiny, A night of pain and mastery. No killing stroke, no final breath— Just iron will defying death. And as the rising dawn grows near, The creature yields, dissolves her fear— A fragile girl in moonlit haze, Awakening from cursed days. [Final Chorus – Redemption at a Price] Oh, daughter of the midnight tomb, Freed from chains that shaped your doom. The Witcher lies in blood and stone, His victory carved through flesh and bone. A king weeps softly at the sight— The child restored by dawn’s first light. [Outro – A Hero’s Wound] On battered earth the Witcher wakes, Alive through scars that moonlight makes. He broke the curse, but paid the cost— For some redemption is not lost… But earned where mortal strength is worn, In crypts where heroes are born.