The loom spins dark, where shadows play,
In crimson hues and twilight’s sway.
Threads of fate, both frayed and taut,
Weave stories whispered, battles fought.
Teal winds whisper through fractured stone,
A hymn for hearts once left alone.
With purple haze and fiery red,
The chorus calls the misfit, the fled.
In shadow’s womb, defiance grows,
Through grit and ash, the spirit knows.
The veil parts wide for those who dare,
To find the truth in ruin’s lair.
A mirror cracks; the shards reveal,
The aching past, the chance to heal.
Beneath the grime, the stars ignite,
Guiding the lost through endless night.
So rise, unbroken, seize the air,
With hands that weave, with hearts that care.
Fatespun’s hymn, a rebel’s song,
Mystic and fierce, where we belong.