Beneath a moon of silver flame, A battered hat conceals his name. Through rain and thunder, streets of stone, A wizard walks the night alone.
With staff in hand and coat worn thin, He faces shadows closing in. The city sleeps, but spirits rise, And ancient darkness stalks the skies.
A circle burns beneath his feet, Where mortal courage demons meet. He speaks a word, the heavens flare— A spark of fire cuts the air.
Yet magic cannot mend the heart, Nor keep all loved ones safe from dark. He bears his losses, scar by scar, And still he reaches for a star.
For though the night may claim the town, And monstrous powers hunt him down, One stubborn soul will always stand—
A wizard guarding Chicago’s land.
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