The green gates of the abyss have risen, 1

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Description

Soft harp notes blend with distant Celtic women’s choir, the wind of the fjord howling beyond the walls]

[Male Voice, low and steady]
The green gates of the abyss have risen,
and the night is no longer ours.
Shadows taste the iron in my veins,
yet I walk forward,
a flame bound in the skin of a man.

[Deep drum beats echo, like steps of giants in the snow]

[Female Voice, trembling yet fierce]
Something in your eyes burns strange tonight,
a sun hidden under a storm,
a darkness that is not death but power.

[Bagpipes join, slow and mournful, under the soft chime of steel]

[Male Voice, almost a whisper]
When the gods turn their faces,
and heroes rot beneath the roots of Yggdrasil,
the halls of the fallen return
those who refused their rest.

[Wind gust, torches flicker, the choir swells into a warning]

[Female Voice, closer now, breath against breath]
Do not walk into that green fire,
do not give them more than your blood.

[Male Voice, voice breaking into a growl]
If I must be the shadow of the sun,
the cursed nine times over,
the fang and the light bound together,
then so be it —
for you… and for the land that bore us.

[Low piano joins, echoing like footsteps in an empty hall]

[Female Voice, shivering]
You stand between dawn and darkness,
and both claim you as theirs.
But I — I claim you as mine.

[Male Voice, fierce and tender]
Then love the Viking,
and never let him fall.

[Sudden clash of cymbals, drums rise into a storm, bagpipes wail]

[Choir of women’s voices, in Old Norse, distant as the wind]
“Solskuggr Einherjar…
Shadow of the Sun,
enemy of the abyss,
blade of the gods.”

[Male Voice, roaring over the tempest]
Ten fall for every stroke of my axe,
and the gates still open.
I bleed fire, I breathe shadow,
and still, I fight.

[Female Voice, almost breaking]
If the darkness takes you…
I will follow.

[Music swells to a furious, aching crescendo; harps and bagpipes clash under the thunder of war drums]

[Male Voice, fading into the storm]
It is not over.
Not for me.
Not for this world.

[Final note: a single harp string plucked, fading into silence, while the choir whispers in the tongue of the dead.]

DI DI, DI… DJ PABLO LODBROK, THE VIKING WOLF