Scroll VIII:VI — “The Forgotten Firmament” "The heavens grew silent, forgetting the names of those who walked below. From ashes arose a new world, broken yet whole, where memory became seed and ruin became foundation."

When the Sky Forgets Our Name

Page II:IX — “The Shadowborne Dawn”
Night rises long before the sun falls.
Darkness is not absence but inheritance—
the quiet companion that grows in the cracks
where unspoken fears are kept as sacred offerings.

The Dark It Brings

Fragment III:IV — “The Whisper of the Final Threshold”
At the brink of unbeing, a voice stirs.
It speaks in velvet agony, promising release.
Yet the path is a serpent devouring its own tail,
and the seeker finds that escape mirrors eternity.

Suicidal Ideation

Leaf IV:XI — “The Last Lumen”
Between breath and departure hangs a single silver flame.
It flickers with every regret not spoken,
every farewell unfinished.
Those who linger here learn the true silence of the void.

Brink of Death

Tablet V:VII — “The Testament of the Ruined Vessel”
What shatters cannot be restored,
but in the pieces lie the truest shapes of the soul.
Loss carves the traveler hollow—
so that remembrance may echo unabated.

What’s Left Remains

Scroll VI:XII — “The Implosion of the Heart”
Descent is not always downward.
Sometimes the fall begins inside,
a collapse of faith, marrow, and memory,
dragging the spirit inward toward its own core.

Falling From Within

Record VII:III — “The Coin of Unwritten Fate”
Chance governs kingdoms of flesh and fear.
A single turn may birth salvation or ruin—
yet it is the hand that trembles, not the coin,
for destiny is only ever weighed by doubt.

Heads or Tails

Verse VIII:VI — “The Illuminated Void”
Not all darkness is blind.
Some caverns glow with forbidden warmth,
inviting the weary to drown in their light.
Here lies the abyss that comforts—
a cradle made of shadowfire.

Lit Abyss

Folio IX:XIII — “The Chronicle of the Broken Mind”
When the mind fractures, truth rewrites itself.
Memories distort into labyrinths,
echoes become commands,
and thought dissolves into shimmering shards of madness—
each one reflecting a different version of the soul.

Memoirs of Insanity

Codex X:XVIII — “The Second Ending”
Death does not cease at the final breath.
Beyond the veil lies a quieter demise—
the unraveling of echoes,
the dimming of light remembered,
the peace earned only when the spirit accepts
that even endings have their own endings.

Death In The Afterlife

WELCOME TO TERRESTRIUM
———————————————
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

———————————————
HELLMOUNTAIN RECORDS

When the Sky Forgets Our Name

Terrestrium

Related tracks