Dead Melodies - Sylvan
(c) 2024 Cryo Chamber
Artist....: Dead Melodies
Album.....: Sylvan
Source....: WEB/MP3
Tracks....: 12
Genre.....: Ambient
Label.....: Cryo Chamber
Encoder...: LAME 3.100
Quality...: 320 kbps / 441kHz / Full Stereo
URL.......: http://www.deezer.com/album/540204982
Tracklist:
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1. Perched Upon the Edge of Twilight 5:20
2. Sacrificial Offerings 6:05
3. Olden Boughs 5:37
4. Dance of the Elderfolk 5:31
5. The Symmetry of Fate 7:08
6. Ode to Sylvan Hallows 6:05
7. Those That Sharpen Their Axes 5:53
8. Dissident Assembly 4:36
9. Cursed Roots of Blood 6:36
10.A Murder of Spies 5:56
11.Under Guardian's Watch 8:02
12.Fireside Fable 6:09
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72:58
Total:178.59MB / 72:58
Release Notes:
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Dead Melodies presents us the dark wooded album, Sylvan. A musical tale of
mystical woodlands and tribal folk. Atmospheric post rock soundscapes, dark
ambient-acoustic and organic sound design
In the realm of shadow and whisper existed a being known as Zephyra, a dark
seraphim cloaked in obsidian feathers that absorbed the light around her.
Zephyra was neither angel nor demon, but a mysterious force that governed the
ebb and flow of human destiny.
Perched upon the edge of twilight, she observed the mortal realm with eyes that
held the reflections of countless fates. Zephyra's existence was intertwined
with the delicate balance of fortune and misfortune sometimes known as the
symmetry of fate. She soared silently through the night, casting her shadowy
wings over unsuspecting souls, unseen to the human eye for in the shadow realm
she roamed.
Those who sensed her presence felt an inexplicable chill, as if destiny itself
whispered through the rustle of her wings. Zephyra's touch could bring either
blessings or curses, her choices veiled in the mysteries of patterns unknown.
In the villages nestled between the ancient forests and forgotten whispers,
tales of the enigmatic dark seraphim were entwined in ancestral legends. Some
believed her to be a harbinger of doom, while others saw her as a celestial
guardian watching over the threads of their lives.
Out of both fear and gratitude for her guardianship, villagers furnished shrines
with offerings hopeful for safe passage through their years, though the younger
generation believed themselves wiser than telltale myth and made no sacrifice,
and disdain for this apparent godlike being grew, instilling anger towards her
mystic reign.
At the end of the forest valley stood a knoll, and upon it a tree. Said to be
millennia old and her place of rest, its ancient gnarled and knotted boughs
imposed a daunting silhouette as if an extension of the seraphim's unnatural
rule. Its roots elaborately weaving in and out swallowing up the earth like a
spider's web encases its prey. And at the base of the knoll, the long reaching
roots had shaped in such a way that an altar had formed; its top perfectly flat
and crimson stained, testament to the sacrificial offerings the village elders
thought to appease Zephyra's will.
The opposing views amongst the young had led to angry mobs taking the tree by
storm to cut it down and rid the people of the seraphim's grip with the tree
seen as her stronghold. But, for as the elders had long told, those who sharpen
their axes will drown in blood, for iron and ore will anger the beast, and to
her, the price ye shall pay. These old sayings did not scare the young mobs, as
try they did, but each attempt to sever its lifeblood failed for the ancient
roots and branch were impenetrable, and after each misadventure a mysterious and
horrifying death was bestowed upon the village the following day. Iron for an
eye, the elders always said and, with time, living in the shadow of fear and
hope again became the norm.
But one moonlit eve, a humble artist named Elara sought guidance from the
elusive seraphim with an offering not of blood nor plant, but of a painting of
the ancient tree upon the knoll. Intrigued by her sincerity, Zephyra
materialised before her, wings casting a shadow over the moonlit path. Elara
hesitated but then asked the seraphim to reveal her destiny.
Zephyra, with a voice that echoed through the ages, spoke of intertwined paths
and choices. She bestowed upon Elara the gift of foresight, allowing her to
paint visions of both joy and sorrow. Elara's artwork became a reflection of the
delicate dance between light and darkness, capturing the essence of the human
experience.
As tales of Zephyra's gift spread, the villagers embraced the seraphim's
presence, understanding that life's tapestry was woven with threads of both
shadow and light. Zephyra continued her silent vigil, overseeing the fortunes
and misfortunes of those whose lives she touched, a mysterious guardian in the
realm between dusk and dawn. With her earthly messenger, Elara said to paint a
picture a day that told the fortunes, or lack-of them to come to pass at next
sun.
And the tree upon the knoll stood strong under the watch of the village elders
and never again was an axe raised, nor was blood spilled in the name of Zephyra.