In ancient halls of hidden power,
Where secrets of the ages cower,
The adepts gather, robed in white,
To call forth forces of the night.
With wand and sword, and crystal sphere,
They trace the symbols, loud and clear,
And call upon the holy names,
To kindle new unholy flames.
The circle drawn, the quarters cast,
The guardians summoned, bound with zest,
The altar set, the incense lit,
The rite begins, the work is split.
With words of power, spoken low,
The energies begin to flow,
And as the ritual reaches peak,
The veil between the worlds grows weak.
The gods and demons, old and new,
Are summoned forth, to see and do,
The will of those who dare to wield
The ancient arts, the arcane field.
So let the work begin, with might
As darkness grows in place of light,
With open hearts and uncast swords
We bind new spirits to our cause.