Beneath the moon's ethereal glow,
Lies Castle Mithris, shrouded in woe.
Its towers reach for the starlit sky,
Where whispers of the past softly sigh.
Within its walls of ancient stone,
Echoes of battles, long overthrown.
The halls are filled with silent cries,
And shadows dance where hope once lies.
The throne room, draped in velvet red,
Holds secrets of the royal dead.
A crown of thorns, a sceptre cold,
Tales of a king, brave and bold.
The gardens bloom with midnight roses,
Hiding thorns beneath their poses.
A labyrinth of green, so bittersweet,
Where lovers' ghosts often meet.