Lo, comes a night when mists do softly creep, In spectral hues beneath the moonlit beam. Within yon haunted wood where shadows deep, Dwell the ghastly specters that haunt the dream. Lady Margery, with fair visage, wanders Amidst silence thick thou can'st almost hear, Seeking the lost soul of poor dear Edmund, Who vanished ere the past full moon did peer. By moon’s pale gleam, a distant chanting hums, A coven’s whispers breach the night’s repose. Eldritch fog grips her heart with icy thumbs, And gyre doth her courage as fear now grows. Yet hast’s unknown, a dark figure appears, 'Tis Edmund’s shade, bound by ancient dread fears.