Through the marsh where the cold winds bite,
A lantern glows with ghostly light.
Its silver flame, both dim and wide,
Calls the lost to step inside.
A hooded man with hollow eyes,
Drifts between the shifting skies.
His cloak is stitched with midnight air,
His voice—a whisper, thin and bare.
“Follow close and do not stray,
Or mist will steal your soul away.
Hold your breath, don’t make a sound,
Lest the ones beneath be found.”
The fog curls tight, a grasping hand,
Shadows slither through the land.
Footsteps echo—one, then two,
A shape behind now follows you.
The lantern hums, the stranger grins,
A chilling truth burns deep within.
The road ahead is never near,
The way back fades—now lost to fear.
You took the path, you heard the call,
Now the lantern owns your soul and all.
Through the marsh where lost ones tread,
A lantern glows—a light long dead.