Lyrics

Then the mountains called. We found him meditating beneath the broken statue of an old mountain deity, where the snow never melted and breath left the mouth like smoke from a funeral pyre. Chains wrapped his arms each link etched with a name. He stood before I spoke. “Silas,” he said simply. “I’ve kept an eye on this gate long enough. I want to make a bigger difference ,If you're walking forward… so will I.” He joined us without ceremony, his silence steadier than the wind. It was as if he knew why I was there, how intriguing I guess even the spirits whisper about the Cerulean Vow. There were nights when we sat beside flickering lanterns, the spirit-heat faint, huddled beneath the shattered shell of old skyships. Clarissa would tell us about timelines that never happened. Silas would sit, unmoving, like a gravestone carved in thought. I said little. But for the first time in centuries… I listened to voices not my own..Her voice reached us next. We entered a village where grief sat like fog. The people there didn’t cry anymore—they had forgotten how. A curse had stolen their ability to mourn, replacing sorrow with hollow stares and numb silence. Then her voice cut through the haze like morning light. A single hymn, low and raw, drawn not from beauty but from ache.
We found her kneeling in the center of the town square, palms resting on the earth. The villagers had gathered around her, not speaking, just listening. She looked up, eyes rimmed with silver glow, and met mine without fear. “I’m Iana,” she said gently. “If it is vengeance you seek, I am no vessel for such fire but if it is a reason to stay…
then let me be your prayer in the silence,
the warmth in a world grown cold, the spirit’s touch that reminds you: even broken things can still be holy.” So poetic and fierce I like that; my name is Asriel, and We were wondering if you wanted to help us create a world that we all can enjoy. That night, the curse lifted, And we continued on.
By the time we reached the volcanic rim near the old Herinn trade routes, we had already begun to feel like something whole. Not a unit. Not a team. But a promise forming We crossed into a smoke-cloaked outpost where nothing grew, where even spiritflame flickers uncertainty. The sky there rained static, and every home bore scorched prayers against the return of war. She found us.She walked out of the smoke and flipped a coin through the air. It landed edge-up between us. “Destiny,” she said….“I’ve got bad instincts and worse luck. But something tells me I’m supposed to be here.” She flicked the coin again, and this time I caught it. We made camp that night beneath a derelict satellite tower shaped like a fallen obelisk. As the wind howled through the broken steel, Clarissa wove small illusions of stars for the children in the village nearby. Iana sang softly under her breath. Silas stood watch, unmoving, his silhouette outlined against the glimmer of distant aurora flares.