The Wraith's Bane

In the darkest hour, when shadows loom,
A ballad of death and horror shall consume,
A chilling tale of the macabre and dread,
Where restless souls wander, their spirits not yet bled.

In the haunted woods where the moon is veiled,
A ghastly figure's form is fiercely nailed,
The Wraith, they call him, from a bygone past,
His malevolence spreads like a deathly cast.

With eyes like coals and a heart turned black,
He roams the night, his victims to attack,
No mortal knows from whence he came,
His origin lost in a shroud of shame.

Within the village, fear holds its sway,
As night falls, they kneel and pray,
For when the Wraith emerges from the gloom,
He'll claim another soul, sealing their doom.

One moonless night, a maiden fair,
Her raven hair, her skin so rare,
Caught the Wraith's eye with a radiant grace,
A beauty that could tame even Death's embrace.

Unaware of the danger that lay in wait,
She wandered alone through the cemetery's gate,
The air grew cold, the wind whispered dread,
As the Wraith emerged from the shadows, bony and thread.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a spell,
Chains of despair bound her soul to hell,
Her cries for mercy echoed through the night,
But the Wraith showed no remorse, no flicker of light.

In the moonlit graveyard, a tragedy unfolds,
As the maiden's life story painfully unfolds,
A dance of death with the Wraith as her guide,
Her essence drained, her soul denied.

The village mourns the loss of their own,
Yet fear still lingers, deep seeds sown,
For the Wraith still lurks, in the darkest hour,
A specter of death and horror's baleful power.

So beware the night when shadows play,
And pray the Wraith won't come your way,
For once he marks you, there's no escape,
Only darkness awaits, a relentless tape.

In the annals of time, this ballad will stay,
A warning to all, heed what I say,
Death and horror can strike from the blind,
And the Wraith's legacy forever entwined.