[intro - The sound of a crackling fire in a stone hearth mingles with the distant, rhythmic drumming of a woodland ritual] The hallow is vast, the moon is full, the spell be cast and for once, the wild ones will bloom!
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[verse 1] She stirs the cauldron with a silver-tipped wand, drawing the power from the earth and beyond. The herbs in the garden, the stars in the sky, reflect the deep wisdom within her cunning eyes. She weaves a protection of clover and thorn, a sanctuary where a new life is born. No longer the lonely, the feared, or the cold, she’s found a fierce spirit to have and to hold. (Blegh!)
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[Chorus] The glow of the ember and the strength of the hide, walking the path with a flame as their guide! She is the magic, he is the sword, together they welcome the breaking of dawn.The witch and the werewolf, in a circle of light, the masters of morning and lords of the night! A vow in the starlight, an oath in the clay, together they drive the Darkness away!
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[verse 2] He treads from the treeline with dirt on his paws, sheathing the steel of his ivory claws. The fury of nature is calmed by her touch, a beast who nothing was given and yet promised so much. He brings her the trophies of forest and field, finding the only peace his wild heart yields. The pack is a family, the coven is law, a balance of power without a flaw.
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[chorus] The glow of the ember and the strength of the hide, walking the path with a flame as their guide! She is the magic, he is the sword, together they welcome the breaking of dawn. The witch and the werewolf, in a circle of light, the masters of morning and lords of the night! A vow in the starlight, an oath in the clay, together they drive the Darkness away!
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[Bridge - The tempo shifts into a heavy, triumphant folk-metal stomp. The guitars play a massive, folk-inspired melody that feels like a victory march. The vocals are a powerful, clean-singing choir layered with a deep, melodic growl] The wolfsbane removed! The curse to blessed spell! By the light of the moon, the darkness is quelled! She is the anchor! He is the shield! To the power of love, even monsters will yield! Raise the chalice! Join the pack! (Blegh!)
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[verse 3] In the cottage of oak where the thorn takes root, the magic of life is the primary fruit. She paints his name in ash on the bark of the trees, while he carries her scent on the wandering breeze. It’s a tale of the wolf and the weaver of light, the masters of day and the keepers of night. A romance of power, of blood, and of grace, finding their home in each other’s embrace.
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[outro - The instruments fade into a gentle, acoustic reprise of the mandolin melody] Blessed be the hunt... Shrine!