Long into deep abyss of night, the necromancers toil,

from evocation of the dead, to purging of the soul.

Unmindful of lingering spirits, wretched in solemn despair,

let loose memories of their final breaths upon the chill night air.

And Underneath livid shadows, of headstone, tomb, and shrine,

tincture of the necromancer’s brew, seeps darkness into vein.

‘Rouse forth from eternal slumber thrall, and claim thine corpse again,

for tonight you feast and carousal, on warm blood, and mortal pain.’

S.K