In the shadowed forest, twelve sons once roamed, twelve hearts of fire, twelve paths unknown. A vow was spoken, a curse was cast, and wings of black would rise at last. I hear their calls in the midnight breeze, their cries entwined in the whispering trees. Seven years I must hold my tongue, for every word, their fate unsung. The forest watches, the moonlight glows, and sorrow hides in the river's flow. I walk alone, yet never stray, their blackened wings guide my way. Twelve ravens fly, across the haunted sky, shadows of brothers, bound by fate so high. Silent sister guards the spell, the vow, the night, until the dawn shall break, and restore the light.** A cruel curse, a promise deep, in forest dark, their vigil keep. Through whispered winds and hidden streams, they wait for freedom, for shattered dreams. Wings of black, hearts of stone, they fly unseen, yet not alone. Oh, brothers mine, hear my plea, through silent years, through agony. One word, one prayer, one final song, will lift the spell where you belong. Twelve ravens fly, shadows of the past, through the forest deep, their freedom cast. Silent sister breaks the vow, the night, and dawn returns, restoring light.** So the twelve brothers rise once more, from shadowed trees to heaven’s door. The vow fulfilled, the forest still, their wings take flight o’er vale and hill.
