In the shadows, they rise, dark and forlorn, Silent sentinels, the Bloodhorns of the night, With eyes like embers and whispers torn, They weave through dreams in a spectral flight. Their horns gleam crimson in the moon's cold light, Echoes of battles from ancient wars, Guardians of secrets, unseen, they smite, Wandering realms where the midnight soars. Beneath the canopy of stars they roam, In silence, they move through the velvet dark, Guiding lost souls to their twilight home, Leaving behind a whisper, a fleeting mark. Bloodhorns of the night, fierce and untamed, Mysterious phantoms of shadow and flame.
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