A woman in a long dress is walking through a forest

In the midnight hour, under a pale moonlight, Whispers of the ancient ones, dancing in the night. Candles flicker, casting shadows on the wall, Summoning the spirits from the depths they call. Shadows of the coven, we rise from the deep, In the twilight's embrace, where the shadows creep. Underneath the veil, where the secrets lie, In the witching hour, we come alive. Through the forest dark, where the owls cry, Hidden paths of mystery, where the spirits fly. With the cauldron's brew, and the ancient spell, We weave our magic in a silent, secret swell. Echoes of the past, in a haunting refrain, We dance with the ghosts in the moonlit rain. Bound by the night, by the mystic's decree, In the circle of the shadows, we are set free. In the silence of the dawn, as the shadows fade, We retreat to the darkness, where the magic's made. Until the night returns, and the spirits sigh, We'll awaken once more, beneath the starlit sky.

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