The Last Enchanter

The Last Enchanter

In the tower on the hill,
Where the stars bend to his will,
Candles flicker, shadows breathe,
A sorcerer's heart too proud to grieve.

Ancient tomes with dust and fire,
Echoes hum like a spectral choir,
Eyes alight with power’s gleam,
Drowning fate in a crimson dream.

Sorcerer, sorcerer, binding the sky,
Master of magic where shadows collide,
Chasing the dawn with a curse in his veins,
Dancing with chaos and breaking his chains.

He whispers low to ghosts and flame,
Bears the burden of power and shame,
Runes that glow with a burning fate,
Calling the night to liberate.

Secrets etched on brittle bone,
Cracks in time that he calls his own,
Love long lost to the winds of fate,
A sorcerer bound to a curse too great.

Sorcerer, sorcerer, keeper of night,
Weaving the storms and bending the light,
Torn by the echoes of those who betrayed,
Hunted by darkness his magic portrayed.

Spirits cry from caverns deep,
Shattered dreams that never sleep,
Clad in shadows and cloaked in pain,
Seeking solace through arcane rain.

When the dawn at last shall break,
And the sky with fire will quake,
He’ll rise again with eyes aflame,
The sorcerer lost to power’s name.