Cursed Realm

Celestial Graveyard

Graveyard

Ghost

Memories of Regret

Love Me

Dans Macabru

The River of Souls

Secrets and lies

When Dragons were real

Blue Morning

Decantation

We are a sadness that is so old it cannot remember its own birth. We have been here for so long that we have forgotten how to return home- or even where that welcomed shore resides. I speak in sounds because there are no words- No language reveals what we feel - more than a whispered scream. I touch the sound and cringe in its echo. It is cold and hollow - It is silent yet piercing - It is a minstrel of divine discontent- A lullaby sung to sleepers in their graves. The shadow of a melody that I remember from some distant life. Why ? Decantation of Lost SoulS