In the tower's shadow, a mage of fright,
Casting spells that dance in eerie night.
His cloak, a shroud of ominous grace,
In the lighthouse, he finds his haunting space.

Glowing orbs, his mystical gaze,
Illuminating fear in the darkened maze.
Whispers of incantations, a spectral hum,
A lighthouse captive to the mage's grim sum.

Waves crash, a symphony of dread,
As the mage weaves spells with sinister thread.
Haunted beams pierce the inky abyss,
A lighthouse in the grip of spectral bliss.

Each step echos in the stone-cold tower,
A phantom's walts, gaining power.
Beware the light that flickers and sways,
For the scary mage in the lighthouse stays.

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Scarlatan, in the year 932 AF.