Aura abound, encircling brood.
Nothingness and everything,
the void is crude.
Dangling ley-lines like nimble string.
What power dost thou string bring?

Master of shadow and flame
and creatures beyond mortal plane,
stealing souls from bodies he's claimed.
Back to the Nether he hides,
twiddling his thumbs, time abides.

Body seems frail, but the heart anew.
Foolishly, he knows your eyes deceive you,
and he waits for the battle to finally ensue.
You can run, sure, but he will pursue,
because your fleeting soul is long overdue.