Master of the Arcane

Master of the Arcane

From the ashes of dusk, through the gates of the night,
A sorcerer rises in flickering light,
Cloaked in shadows, bound by fate,
Keeper of secrets where powers await.

Whispered spells through teeth of bone,
Commanding the storms from an obsidian throne,
Eyes of ember, soul of ice,
Paying the cost, whatever the price.

Sorcerer, sorcerer, master of pain,
Drowning in darkness to conquer the flame,
Wielder of chaos, binder of souls,
Turning the twilight where destiny folds.

In the labyrinth halls where echoes scream,
He threads through dreams on a spectral beam,
Summoning fire where shadows cling,
A puppet of fate on a silver string.

Blood on his hands, but never his own,
Cursed by the power he’s come to own,
Chanting the rites where light has died,
The sorcerer sways with worlds at his side.

Sorcerer, sorcerer, tearing the sky,
Bending the cosmos where spirits defy,
Guardian of darkness, heir to the void,
Lost in the magic his soul once destroyed.

(Bridge)
Fire and ice entwine in his breath,
Carving his name through the fabric of death,
Veins of power and hearts of stone,
Doomed to reign from a desolate throne.

And when the stars fall into the sea,
He’ll cast his will through infinity,
Master of fate, lord of despair,
The sorcerer’s soul beyond repair.