In the heart of the shadowed woods, under the pallid moon,

Lies a secret old as time, a tale of silent doom.

A hollow cry, a whisper-soft, through the gnarled trees,

Echoes the legend of the Ghost Amulet, the keeper of the deceased.

An ancient relic, carved in bone, with symbols etched in dread,

Holding spirits in its grasp, binding the living and the dead.