In the red void where daylight dies,
Emerges a form in shadow's guise.
In the blood-hued light, a figure is cast,
A metamorphosis, swift and vast.
Whispers of black silk, sewn from the night's own plea,
A creature is born, not bound but free.
An eclipse of her soul, where once was light,
A passage to power, through terror's night.
With eyes like coals that smolder and seethe,
She stands at the crossroads, of worlds beneath.
Her silhouette a sonnet, a darkened rhyme,
A being reborn, outside of time.
