Bloodline of Flame

 

We are the daughters of shadow and spark,

The sons of the flame that danced in the dark.

Coven-born, in circles cast,

We carry the oath that echoes the past.

Bare feet on stone, we summon the tide,

The moon at our backs, the gods at our side.

From Gerald’s flame to the sacred grove,

We walk the path the Old Ones wove.

In cloak and chant, in kiss and blade,

We rise where mystery never fades.

Not for the meek, this crafted art—

It burns the soul and brands the heart.

Initiates thrice, by fire and breath,

We’ve faced the veil, we’ve danced with death.

In silence deep, our power grows,

Rooted in truth that only blood knows.

The Watchtowers turn, the sabbats spin,

We feast, we fast, we shed old skin.

With cords and scourge, we trace the line,

Of sacred will and fate’s design.

We speak in symbols, dream in signs,

Our love and law through lifetimes binds.

Bound not by fear, nor empty rule—

We are the forge, the flame, the fuel.

So mark this name in stone and air:

Gardnerian—bewitched and rare.

Not every soul shall cross this door,

But those who do are evermore.