"There are coarses of souls that sometimes rupture to our side of reality. When we travel the planes of dream we dare these roads and the spirits that he dormant..."
Evocation
What is this wind we breath Born of the nether Eearthwomb that bleeds
First snowfall covers the tress Over manor of Haven something stares and breaths
Rose has crossed the coarse of souls Where oblivious havens he unfold, untold tales paint the rooms of old Rose glances the jars just to wake the dusts of cold
Samhains moon cuades so distant Wheel of year has turned again Mirrors prepare to rescave the dormant greet the sun the morning comes
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