Underneath the silver of a fractured moon, Where the gothic spires pierce the weeping skies, Shadows weave a dark and melancholic tune, Awakening the hunger in her glowing eyes. With horns of jet and a crown of ancient dread, She steps across the ashes where the fallen bleed. Oh, mistress of the midnight, queen of dark design, Where the wisps of fog and phantom spirits twine, With eyes of burning crimson and a heart of frost, She claims the shattered souls that time has lost. Rise up from the ruins, hear her silent call, The sovereign of the shadows over all! Webs of silver silk drape her ghostly form, Floating through the whispers of the dying wind, Eyeing every ruin through the gathering storm, Where light has faded and the stars have sinned. An outstretched hand beckons from the endless night, Drawing every mortal from the path of light. Oh, mistress of the midnight, queen of dark design, Where the wisps of fog and phantom spirits twine, With eyes of burning crimson and a heart of frost, She claims the shattered souls that time has lost. Rise up from the ruins, hear her silent call, The sovereign of the shadows over all! Skulls lie scattered deep beneath her feet, While distant towers crumble to the stone, A kingdom where the dark and bitter meet, Reigning on her shadow-haunted throne. Can you feel the chill upon the midnight air? Look into her gaze... and find despair. Fading with the mist as the dawn draws near, Leaving only echoes of an ancient fear. In the gothic night, her kingdom stands alone... The shadow queen upon her throne.
