The Song of Morgana

In days of old, when shadows reigned,
Morgana’s name was whispered, feared, and famed.
A sorceress born of royal blood,
With eyes as deep as the darkest flood.

She walked the line 'twixt light and night,
Her magic bound to neither right.
In Avalon’s halls, she cast her spell,
A woman of power, none could quell.

Her voice was silk, her gaze was flame,
And kingdoms trembled at her name.
She learned the lore of ancient trees,
The hidden tongues that ride the breeze.

But in her heart, ambition stirred,
Her path was dark, her power blurred.
With every spell, with every breath,
She wove a dance of life and death.

Her hands could heal or hearts destroy,
To her, such choices brought no joy.
For Morgana’s fate was not her own,
A pawn, a queen, a heart of stone.

She bound the stars in twisted thread,
Turned love to hate, the living dead.
The skies would darken at her call,
For Morgana sought to rule them all.

Yet in the deep, where shadows play,
Her soul began to slip away.
The magic she once held so tight,
Now pulled her deeper into night.

She cast her final, fateful spell,
A curse so strong, it cracked the knell.
And though she vanished from the land,
Her mythos stayed, a deadly hand.

For in the winds and waters cold,
Morgana’s story still is told.
A witch, a queen, both lost and found,
Her legacy in darkness bound.

Beware her song, its haunting strain,
For Morgana’s magic still remains.
And those who seek her shadowed power,
Will find their doom in her final hour.

4