In shadows deep and whispers old, The tale of men with hearts so bold, Brothers of the Craft they stand, With magic pulsing through their hand.

By moonlit night and candle’s gleam, They walk the path of a hidden dream, In circles cast with earth and air, Their spirits rise, their souls laid bare.

Yet burdens are heavy they must bear. In silence, they face despair, for in a world where myths do clash, their truth is veiled by fear’s harsh lash.

With incantations soft and pure, They seek to find a lasting cure, For ancient wounds and scars so deep, That haunt their days and fill their sleep.

In brotherhood, they find their strength. Through trials faced, through journeys’ length, with every spell and mystic rite, they fight the dark; they bring the light.

Though whispers mock and eyes may sneer, they hold their ground and quell their fear, For in their hearts a fire does burn, a magic true, with each life’s turn.

Together bound by fate’s decree, They learn to set their spirits free, Brothers of the Craft, they stand, With wisdom deep and guiding hand.

Through storms of doubt and waves of scorn, Their legacy is ever borne, In unity their voices sing, Of hope reborn and life’s bright spring.

So heed the call, the ancient song, Where Brothers of the Craft belong, In sacred rites and secret lore, Their power grows forevermore.