(The one who watches the woods—and what answers trespass)
Verse 1 (soft and eerie)
There is no sign, no sacred tree,
No banner strung for all to see.
But step too far, and breath too loud—
And silence folds you like a shroud.
He does not speak. He does not warn.
He does not mourn the blood you’ve torn.
You came with fire, you came with greed—
But roots remember where you bleed.
Chorus (low, rising)
He is the keeper, and its wrath—
He walks the root-forbidden path.
No bell shall ring, no beast shall cry—
You simply fall, and do not rise.
No god protects, no coin buys grace—
When storm and silence share a face.
Verse 2 (deeper, with dread)
He does not guard, for guards forgive.
He does not rule, for kings must give.
He only watches, waits, and walks—
And answers trespass not with talk.
They found his trail in shattered bark,
Where ash was wet and breath was dark.
And all who sought to break the land—
Now feed the roots by his own hand.
Chorus (stronger)
He is the keeper, and its wrath—
No torch survives his crimson path.
The vines will twist, the branches bend—
But he alone will bring the end.
No priest, no pact, no whispered plea—
Can turn the eye of wrath set free.
Bridge (hushed, almost reverent)
Some say he was a beast once chained,
Some say the forest carved his name.
But all agree—when trees go still—
You do not run. You do not kill.
You leave your blade. You leave your path.
Or meet the keeper… and its wrath.
Final Chorus (thunder beneath whisper)
He is the keeper, white turned red,
Where gods won’t go, and ghosts won’t tread.
And if you walk where you should not—
The Dreamwood wakes, and you are caught.
No warning comes. No second breath—
Just judgment cloaked in storm and death.
it is told by a druid with bark-stained hands and eyes that remember fear.
DreamyPhaser405
