Under shadows cast by midnight's hand, I don the cloak and mask, dark as night's command. Silken threads pull tight, hood veils my face, Hidden within, I become a wraith in lace.

A mask of bone, a grin of death's embrace, Eyes like hollow stars in an endless space. Footsteps echo, soft as whispered breath, In halls that hum with secrets kept in death.

Candles flicker in an amber glow, Casting spells from centuries ago. Symbols carved in marble, cold and white, Guiding me deeper into ancient rites.

The air grows thick, perfumed with sage, A book lies open, words alive on the page. Each line I read, a binding spell, Unlocking doors to heaven—or hell.

I feel them watching, robed and still, Eyes gleaming with a secret thrill. A hand extends, pulling me near, Into a circle where silence is fear.

The leader speaks in tongues unknown, Words sinking deep as seeds once sown. I bow my head, I feel the mark, Baptized now in shadows dark.

As the veil between worlds begins to thin, I feel the ancient power surge within. Through twisted paths my fate is sealed, In the grip of secrets yet revealed.

No turning back, the pact is made, In this secret society's dark parade. And as the night swallows whole my name, I am reborn—a keeper of flame.