Beneath the boughs, beyond the rain, a candle burns beside a windowpane. The door swings wide, the voices cease— we found a tavern promising peace. Inside, the fire paints the room in gold, while every tongue repeats a story old. A crooked crowd with weary eyes speaks of the woods, the Beast, the lies. The Woodsman’s name is passed around, then swallowed by a drinking song. And when they ask us where we're bound, the room grows still before too long. “No place for strangers after dark. No trail survives beyond the mark. For every soul the forest takes, another shadow wakes.” Raise the Dark Lantern, let it glow, for those who came and never left below. Sing their names before the fire dies, while ancient shadows gather in disguise. Raise the Dark Lantern, dim and cold, its trembling flame reveals what can't be told. The Unknown has a thousand eyes— and every tavern keeps its lies. A tale is traded, coin for fear, of something black that draws too near. They speak of trees that walk at night, and hungry roots that fear no light. Wirt hears the warning underneath, while Greg still smiles and bares his teeth. But innocence can wander blind where darker things are left behind. One voice says “Beast.” Another says “Run.” Another swears the Beast has won. But every story changes shape when fear decides the words to make. LIGHT THE LANTERN! BAR THE DOOR! THE BEAST IS WAITING ON THE FLOOR! NO ROAD! NO HOME! NO WAY BACK! THE UNKNOWN IS ON OUR TRACK! Raise the Dark Lantern, let it glow, for every soul the woods below. If legends breathe beneath the trees, then perhaps the next tale... will be me. The fire fades. The voices cease. No one leaves the woods in peace.
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