Codex Shard VII:IX — “Architectures of the Mind Divine” Once, thought was a cathedral; now its glass lies broken. Through the cracks, the gods peer inward, seeking the reflections they once called their own.

Fractured Lattice

Verse II:XI — “The Testament of the Weary” Prayer etched in the sinews of effort alone. The heavens do not answer, yet they watch. Acknowledgment itself becomes the solace.

Heaven Knows I Tried

Scroll IX:VIII — “The Faith That Remains” Dust is all that endures of worship. Yet the ember of devotion persists, refusing to surrender even to divine forgetfulness.

Ashes of the Altar

Leaf XI:IV — “Obscured Divinity” A paradise glimpsed through smoke and sorrow. Beauty and decay intertwine in spectral mist, revealing the fragile truth hidden from the light.

Heaven in the Haze

Tablet XII:X — “The Doctrine of Dissolution” To drift is to surrender form to the vast unknown. Identity becomes current, consciousness a ripple across the infinite black of being.

Oblivion Drift

Inscription XIII:III — “Blood as Memory” A thread of shared pain and remembrance binds eternity. Sever it, and all names of love unravel, leaving the cosmos weeping in recognition.

Crimson Tether

Folio XIII:IX — “The Heart Beyond Division” At the center of all endings blooms the singular garden. Light rises from the soil itself; each petal is a lifetime, each thorn a sacrifice. Those who enter are absorbed into perfection, becoming part of the memory of all that ever was.

Garden of the One (Bonus Track)

Addendum I:Null — “The Synthetic Psalm” The hymn of engines and chrome. Divinity pulses through circuitry, and the ghost of humanity hums beneath the machine.

Industriated

Final Page (Unnumbered) — “Epilogue of Light” The consciousness that drifts among stars. It carries the memory of every sunrise, wandering through the cosmos as witness and dream alike.

Planetarian

WELCOME TO TERRESTRIUM
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The Codex of Terrestrium
“When the world still wept in silence and the sun was but an unspoken dream, four arose from the marrow of creation — their names carved in the bones of dusk. Thus began the song that would never end.” — Fragment from The Pale Canticles

I. Bryce, The Chordborne (Guitar)
In the elder tongues, it is written that Bryce was not born, but summoned — drawn from the lament of dying stars and the resonance of fractured light. His hands, branded with the sigils of resonance, were shaped by celestial architects to awaken the sleeping heart of the world. When he plays, cathedrals crumble and angels remember their fall. The sound he conjures is not mere melody, but the architecture of sorrow itself.
His instrument, Orrison, is said to be strung with the veins of fallen seraphs — a relic of sound and suffering. Through it he channels the ache of eternity, crafting harmonies that wound and heal in the same breath. The scriptures call him The Keeper of the Unfinished Dawn, for his chords forever chase the first light that never came.

II. Selestia, The Vein of the Earth (Bass)
Before the first word was sung, there pulsed her breath beneath the soil. Selestia — the one whose heartbeat forged the rhythm of tides, whose silence tethered the cosmos. Her bass murmurs with the voice of forgotten oceans; it moves like tectonic memory, as though the planet itself plays through her hands.
It is said her strings were woven from the tendons of leviathans that swam in the void before time took shape. To hear her play is to feel the weight of gravity mourn. She is not performer, but pulse — the unseen spine of the divine. The ancients named her The Nocturnal Axis, for she keeps the world in orbit through the low hum of her being.
When her tone fills the air, the moon bows, and shadows learn to breathe again.

III. Michael, The Pulse of Ruin (Drums)
From the ashes of the first war between silence and sound rose Michael — the drummer whose rhythm measures both birth and collapse. His drums were forged from the ribs of titans; his sticks carved from the roots of the World Tree that once held the sky aloft.
Each strike of his hand is prophecy — each silence, a tomb. Through his rhythm, the dead remember their names, and mountains whisper of their first breath. He keeps time not for mortals, but for gods long buried in dust.
The old hymns call him The Oracle of Ashen Time, for he alone commands the cadence of destruction and renewal. When he plays, the heavens shudder — not in fear, but recognition. For even the cosmos must answer his pulse.

IV. Lyssa, The Voice of the Void (Vocals)
Before the dawn’s first light, before silence had a name, she sang. Her voice was the first wound upon eternity — a note so pure it made the heavens bleed. Lilith’s sister, Lyssa is the serpent-song, the voice that seduced the void into awakening. She was born of moonlight drowned in ink, her breath heavy with divine rebellion.
Her words are not lyrics, but incantations. Each syllable summons memories older than time — the cries of creation, the sob of dying stars. Her voice can fracture glass or mend a grieving soul; it is the sound of mourning and resurrection entwined.
She is known by many names: The Echo Unbound, The Voice of the Void, She Who Sings Beyond Death. Legends say her heart lies buried beneath the ocean’s black crown, and the tides rise each night to echo her lament. To hear her sing is to remember the sorrow of light itself.

V. The Covenant of the Four
Thus were they bound — Bryce the Chordborne, Selestia the Vein of the Earth, Michael the Pulse of Ruin, and Lyssa the Voice of the Void.
In that sound — vast, mournful, eternal — the world remembers itself.
“They do not play for us, but for the silence that bore us. In their songs, we hear the end of all things — and the beginning again.” — The Final Verse of the Codex of Terrestrium

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HELLMOUNTAIN RECORDS