The Unknøwn

Beyond the woods where lost souls sleep,
where ancient roots run dark and deep,
a dying lantern stains the snow—
the final road is ours to know.

The Beast had worn a thousand names,
hid countless souls inside its flames.
The Woodsman carved through years of night,
still guarding one last borrowed light.

But every tale the forest spun,
was built upon the fear of one.
A lantern fed by lies and dread—
a hollow promise to the dead.

Then Greg was taken by the trees,
his laughter fading with the breeze.
And Wirt, who'd spent his days afraid,
at last stood where the darkness stayed.

No path to follow.
No hand to guide.
No brother's shadow
left beside.

This is the Unknown,
where all lost stories meet.
Where every road returns you
to the truth beneath your feet.

This is the Unknown,
where darkness wears a crown.
But no night can hold forever
when one lost soul turns around.

“Take me instead,” the brother cried,
and something broke the spell inside.
For courage isn't born from flame—
it rises when we speak a name.

The Beast recoiled, the branches screamed,
the lantern cracked the frozen dream.
The Woodsman saw what fear concealed:
the light was never meant to heal.

Let the lantern fall.
Let the old woods burn.
Let every wandering shadow
find the road to which it turns.

I was afraid to face the night,
afraid to lose, afraid to fight.
But through the dark I finally knew—
the way back home was found in you.

NO MORE CHAINS!

NO MORE LIES!

LET THE BLACKENED
FOREST DIE!

THE FLAME IS GONE!

THE BEAST IS FALLING!

THROUGH THE DARK
THE DAWN IS CALLING!

This is the Unknown,
where all lost stories end.
Where broken hearts remember
what it means to lose and mend.

This is the Unknown,
but darkness has no throne.
The road we feared has led us
to the place we call our home.

The forest sleeps beneath the snow,
the ancient lantern burns no more.
Two little shadows drift away,
toward the fading edge of day.

And if the Unknown calls again,
through autumn leaves and midnight rain—
remember this:

The darkest woods
cannot contain
a heart that chooses
light again.

2085/7500

Beyond the woods where lost souls sleep, where ancient roots run dark and deep, a dying lantern stains the snow— the final road is ours to know. The Beast had worn a thousand names, hid countless souls inside its flames. The Woodsman carved through years of night, still guarding one last borrowed light. But every tale the forest spun, was built upon the fear of one. A lantern fed by lies and dread— a hollow promise to the dead. Then Greg was taken by the trees, his laughter fading with the breeze. And Wirt, who'd spent his days afraid, at last stood where the darkness stayed. No path to follow. No hand to guide. No brother's shadow left beside. This is the Unknown, where all lost stories meet. Where every road returns you to the truth beneath your feet. This is the Unknown, where darkness wears a crown. But no night can hold forever when one lost soul turns around. “Take me instead,” the brother cried, and something broke the spell inside. For courage isn't born from flame— it rises when we speak a name. The Beast recoiled, the branches screamed, the lantern cracked the frozen dream. The Woodsman saw what fear concealed: the light was never meant to heal. Let the lantern fall. Let the old woods burn. Let every wandering shadow find the road to which it turns. I was afraid to face the night, afraid to lose, afraid to fight. But through the dark I finally knew— the way back home was found in you. NO MORE CHAINS! NO MORE LIES! LET THE BLACKENED FOREST DIE! THE FLAME IS GONE! THE BEAST IS FALLING! THROUGH THE DARK THE DAWN IS CALLING! This is the Unknown, where all lost stories end. Where broken hearts remember what it means to lose and mend. This is the Unknown, but darkness has no throne. The road we feared has led us to the place we call our home. The forest sleeps beneath the snow, the ancient lantern burns no more. Two little shadows drift away, toward the fading edge of day. And if the Unknown calls again, through autumn leaves and midnight rain— remember this: The darkest woods cannot contain a heart that chooses light again.

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