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The 3rd Riddle
And in that place forgotten deep
grows the Tower, a darkened keep,
and there the ones that sleep
feel the halls with frightened screams.
To play their game makes one their slave,
makes one's pallor a haunting shade,
for the stones they cast
are the bones that laugh
well beyond the grave.
Your sealed away till one dark day
you also play their tune.
You'll pray for life, you'll pray for light,
seen: two eyes, twin baleful moons.
Maiden's madness mingles
with fears of fical youths
who shine for time in wayward mines
till teller tells times are do.
The vast bell wrings
and cobwebs swing
with petty mortal forms.
The coil it snaps,
the Beast it taps,
the door closes on their tomb.
"Heard no more,
heard no more"
the solemn make their cry,
for the stones they cast
are the bones that laugh
beyond the mortal sky.
