By Owen Godfrey

In shadows deep of midnight's muted glow,  
A wizard worked, with circuits all aglow.  
His fingers danced on keys, both swift and light,  
A cyber mage who weaved spells through the night.

The silence thick, the hum of screens the beat,  
No soul in sight, just him and darkness' fleet.  
An empty room, where every shadow spread,  
A quiet place where all but fear had fled.

A ping pierced through his solitary night,  
An email, enigmatic, unseen sight.  
He clicked it open, driven by his need,  
For knowledge vast — a hunger fed by greed.

The code within, it twisted, dark and strange,  
Its symbols whispered secrets, old and pained.  
He felt a stir, a memory long past,  
Of Alara lost, a shadow it had cast.

His heart still mourned the life he couldn’t save,  
A spell that sent her to the shadowed grave.  
The guilt and sorrow wrapped him like a shroud,  
His quest for power now a cry aloud.  
His heart still mourned, a void he couldn't fill,  
A depth of loss that magic could not still.

To right the wrong, to grasp what he had missed,  
A demon’s code, a chance he couldn't resist.  
Though warnings stirred, his grief and greed entwined,  
To seek the truths that fate had left behind.

He typed each line, ignoring sense and fear,  
The pull of magic’s promise drawing near.  
With trembling hands, he whispered Alara's name,  
A prayer, a plea to end his guilt and shame.

The code before him pulsed with hidden might,  

A dark enchantment woven in the night.  
The warnings echoed, soft within his mind,  
Yet grief and greed together intertwined.  
Into the void, he cast aside his dread,  
Into the void, where all his fears were fed.

A chance to learn, to wield a darker power,  
To right the wrongs that haunted every hour.  
He typed the final lines, his breath held tight,  
A spell that bound this force within the night.

The screen flickered, the shadows seemed to bend,  
As magic’s pull began to twist and rend.  
An eerie glow emerged from depths unknown,  
A form unseen in nightmares, shadows grown.

Its presence filled the air with chilling dread,  
A whisper felt, but never truly said.  
The eldritch being, vast and undefined,  
A madness lurked within its twisted mind.

Roger’s heart raced, for what had he now brought? 
A terror from the void, with chaos fraught.  
He scrambled for his notes, his books of lore,  
His fingers trembling, dropping to the floor.

A chant he found, a banishment to cast,  
He hoped it would expel the dark amassed.  
But as he spoke, the shadows only grew,  
The eldritch presence fed on what he knew.  
Into the void, his cries fell, lost, unheard,  
Into the void, the darkness spoke no word.

Its form shifted, bending light and space,  
A silent scream etched on its shifting face.  
Then, through the void, a vision pierced his mind,  
A figure, pale and ghostly, undefined.

Alara stood before him, eyes so wide,  
A spectral shade, as if from death denied.  
He knew at once that she could not be real,  
A trick of darkness, torment meant to steal.

And yet, her face, her voice, it called his name,  
A yearning deep, igniting grief’s cruel flame.  
“Come back to me,” she whispered soft and low,  
Her presence filled with sadness, grief, and woe.

Roger’s heart broke, broke as he turned to her,  
Ignoring reason, feeling love’s old stir.  
The void around him pulsed with eerie light,  
The eldritch horror grinned, consuming sight.

He reached for Alara, knowing all in vain,  
Driven by need, by grief, by endless pain.  
The shadows closed, the shadows pulled him near,  
The shadows took what Roger held most dear.

A final scream, then silence filled the air,  
The room left cold, with no one standing there.  
The screens now still, their glow a quiet gleam,  
An empty room, as if it were a dream.

No sign of magic, no one left to see,  
Only the quiet of eternity.  
His heart still mourned, but now within the deep,  
Into the void, where shadows always creep.

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