Midnight Grimoire

Midnight Grimoire

Underneath the weeping moon,
Pages turn, the spell’s in bloom.
Ink of shadow, words of fire,
Calling forth the fate desired.

Silver thread and crimson vine,
Mark the stars, redraw the line.
Ancient voices softly hum,
Feel the power—here it comes.

🔮 Turn the page, the night is ours,
Magic flows in midnight hours.
🌙 Bound in whispers, sworn in lore,
Spells are cast in my grimoire.

Candle flickers, potion steams,
Serpents writhe in haunted dreams.
Crystals hum with old decree,
What is lost returns to me.

Silver thread and crimson vine,
Mark the stars, redraw the line.
Ancient voices softly hum,
Feel the power—here it comes.

🔮 Turn the page, the night is ours,
Magic flows in midnight hours.
🌙 Bound in whispers, sworn in lore,
Spells are cast in my grimoire.

Wind may wail and flames may die,
But witches rise beneath the sky.
Fates are woven, time stands still,
Bound by ink, sealed by will.

Close the book, but not the spell,
Magic lingers, all is well.
Through the ages, through the storm,
Witches live—the night is born.