In the lush grove, I stand
Wand and spellbook in hand
The spirits dance among the grave
Glittering like stained glass
My cloak poised against my neck
As I chant my first incantation
And begin the spiritual battle
Mystic images soar within my eyes
And I see these demons as flesh and blood
Balls of lightning and walls of fire
My spells exploding like cosmic storms
And the reflections of a thousand years ago
And the reflections of a thousand years ago
Only strengthens my mystic spellcasting
But as I awake here among the grove
The spirits have all gone home
These projections tire my soul
But it makes my Mecholia full
Tomorrow it will begin again, and I will see who still remains
