The Curse of Eldritch Hall

In moonlit gloom, below ancient stone,
The halls of Eldritch stood alone,
A manor steeped in shadows deep,
Where no sane soul would dare to sleep.

But one wizard, proud and bold,
Sought truths that only darkness told,
With ancient scrolls and bated breath,
He called on powers that deal in death.

He crossed the threshold, staff in hand,
Ignoring warnings, dark and grand,
Of fables foul and curses tight,
That bled the day and drowned the night.

He lit the way with magic’s gleam,
Through corridors that stilled the dream,
Yet all around, a silence grew,
As though the walls already knew.

A book lay there, on altar cold,
With truths the wise would ne’er behold,
Forbidden lore, he could not leave,
For hubris told him to believe.

He chanted words, with reckless might,
Unleashing curses bound in night,
A scream, then silence, gripped the hall,
As darkness answered his prideful call.

His eyes went wide, his soul took flight,
Twisted by the ancient blight.
No knowledge gained, no power found,
Just endless souls circling round.

Now Eldritch Hall stands ever still,
A monument to broken will,
And those who seek its cursed lore,
Will find their fates sealed evermore.

The air grows thick, the wind blows thin,
For none escape the curse within.

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