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Beneath the frost-lit veil of night,

my spirit tears its earthly chain.

The body lies as if in death,

while hugr ascends through shadowed planes.

A serpent’s tongue of distant realms,

a raven’s wing of starless fire—

I cross the threshold of your dream,

called forth by hunger and desire.

Your trembling breath betrays the fear

you hide behind your fading light.

I am the weight upon your chest,

the voiceless judge of sleepless night.

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where mortal waking loses hold.

In silence bound, your shadows bleed—

the Mahr has come, and you are mine,

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where mortal waking loses hold.

the Mahr has come, and you are mine,

forever shackled in your sleep.

From Finnic frost and witchfire born,

a curse unleashed through severed vows.

A jealous heart, a broken oath—

your name delivered to my claws.

I crush your legs with spectral force,

the cracking echoes through your scream.

You grasp for life in trembling hands,

but I devour the pulse beneath.

A shiver crawls across your spine,

the night grows still, the air turns black.

I press your skull into the void,

no dawn will lead your spirit back.

In whispered sin our forms entwine—

a shadow’s kiss, a fevered bind.

Your soul convulses in my grasp,

and leaves the trembling flesh behind.

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where mortal waking loses hold.

In silence bound, your shadows bleed—

the Mahr has come, and you are mine,

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where mortal waking loses hold.

the Mahr has come, and you are mine,

forever shackled in your sleep.

Across the veil my essence storms,

a rider born of ancient grief.

No priest, no dawn, no holy lie

can guard the weak from night's belief.

Your heartbeat fades to quiet dust,

your breath dissolves in winter’s haze.

I carry back the stolen spark

a crimson echo for my grave.

I carry back the stolen spark

a crimson echo for my grave.

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where mortal waking loses hold.

Through blood and dream I carve my throne—

you sleep beneath the weight of worlds

Ride… the marrow of the fainting soul.

Ride… where heaven’s false illusions fall.

The Mahr returns on spectral winds,

the mortal shell left pale and still—

And in the frozen dawn…

a hollow shrine where nightmares dwell.