(The blood moon night in the Dreamwood)
Verse 1 (low and hushed)
They came with fire, blade, and chain,
To strip the woods, to stake their claim.
With laughter sharp and arrows wide,
They never saw the dark inside.
They hunted beasts, they burned the trees,
They cracked the bones beneath their knees.
But one old tale they never learned:
The Dreamwood keeps what once it earned.
Chorus (slow and deadly)
Under the blood moon, pale turned black,
The beast awoke and took it back.
No law, no coin, no pact could save—
The forest roared, and none were brave.
They came with greed, with steel, with sin—
The Black Beast rose, and dragged them in.
Verse 2
They found no tracks, they saw no signs,
But one by one, they crossed the line.
A shadow moved between the pines,
A breath, a growl, a split in time.
His fur once white, now soaked and clung
With blood and ash and rot among.
He did not speak. He did not spare.
He only killed—because it’s fair.
Chorus (building)
Under the blood moon, screams were drowned,
In soil soaked and roots unbound.
He tore through tents, through oath, through plan—
Not beast, not ghost, not death… but man.
And when the sun returned too soon—
The woods still reeked of red and ruin.
Bridge (near-whisper)
They say the trees still bear the stain,
That bones still hang from bark like chains.
And those who speak the Dreamwood’s name—
Do so with fear, not pride or claim.
Final Chorus (grim and final)
He was the howl the silence knew,
The white turned black beneath the moon.
No prayer was said, no graves were made—
The forest fed. The debts were paid.
And to this day, none walk that glen—
For fear they wake the beast again…
The Black Beast of Ruin.
The Black Beast of Ruin” is not sung in the open. It is whispered by bandits too scared to return, passed between poachers like a curse. It is scratched into ruined campsites and old, rusted traps—those left behind by the ones who didn’t make it out.
They thought the Dreamwood was unguarded.
They didn’t know it belonged to him.
Now they do.
And when the blood moon rises again, no raider dares cross that treeline.
Because beneath the roots, the storm remembers.
And the beast—still hunts.
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