this song is so Beautiful i’m honely lost for words￼

Metaltxuko

Dark Connection

Moonlight Rendezvous

Queen of Shadow

Queen of Shadow (feat. Paolo Ribaldini)

Moth to a Flame

#abeersuch #slavomir #duetsbytheredsea #drsuchrecords #arabicfusion 
#worldmusic #cinematiclove #redseamusic #arabicballad #orientalpop 
#oud #qanun #slowdance #middleeasternmusic #egyptmusic #saudiarabia 
#yemenmusic #eritreamusic #sudanmusic #worldromance #romanticduet 
#arabicvibes #poeticfusion #worldfusion #loveunderthepyramids 
#abeersuchandslavomir

🇸🇦-2.-“jeddah-nights”-–-ليالي-جدة-(layali-jeddah) 2.mp3

(Verse 1)
In the shadow of the highland hills
Where the winds still whisper names
He was born to live in silence
'Til the fire lit up the flames

They took her from his arms one night
But they could not steal his soul
With every tear, he forged a vow
To make the broken whole

(Chorus)
Raise your voice, let the thunder cry
For the ones who dared to dream
Chains may bind the body down
But hearts will always scream
Freedom echoes through the stone
Where brave men stood alone
And though he fell, his spirit flies
In every battle cry

(Verse 2)
He rode with fury in his veins
And a sword that sang of pain
The crown may sit on stolen thrones
But truth will still remain

He called the clans from every glen
To stand and face the tide
Not for glory, not for gold
But for the right to decide

(Chorus)
Raise your voice, let the thunder cry
For the ones who dared to dream
Chains may bind the body down
But hearts will always scream
Freedom echoes through the stone
Where brave men stood alone
And though he fell, his spirit flies
In every battle cry

(Bridge)
No grave can hold a legend down
No silence hush the flame
His name carved deep in every soul
Who dares to break the chain

(Outro)
So sing it loud, let the mountains hear
The tale of one who tried
For freedom lives in every heart
That chooses not to hide

Story
The Highland Flame
In the far north, where the hills stand like eternal sentinels and the wind murmurs forgotten names, Aedan MacRae was born. His mother said that silence was his cradle, but that fire slept in his breast. He grew up among the whispers of his ancestors, learning to hear what others ignored: the land spoke, and he understood.
One night, when the moon was hidden behind foreboding clouds, the soldiers of the usurped throne stormed into his village. They took Elira, his love, his light. Aedan fell to his knees, but he did not break. In every tear he shed, he tempered an oath: to restore what was broken, to free what was chained.
For years he wandered the valleys, gathering the scattered, calling the clans from every glen. He promised neither gold nor glory, only the right to decide. His sword, forged in anger and pain, sang in every battle. Though the enemy sat on stolen thrones, Aedan knew that the truth does not bend.
The rebellion grew like a storm. At the Battle of Caer Brae, Aedan fell, but his war cry became an eternal echo. The stone walls still vibrate with his spirit, and every heart that beats for freedom bears his name etched in its soul.
They say that no grave can hold a legend. That his flame burns in every voice raised against oppression. In the mountains, shepherds still sing his story, and children learn that courage is not measured by victories, but by the will to fight.

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