They hid Redwake Station so deep in the mountains that even the mapmakers conveniently forgot it. Snow muffles everything around it, but the structure hums faintly beneath the frost, as if it never learned how to sleep. The upper tower leans like it’s listening for something in the treeline, while the house below sags under the weight of too many winters and too many secrets.

Red lanterns still burn along the walkway, a holdover from the early containment protocols. Their glow isn’t meant to guide visitors. It’s meant to warn whatever lies inside not to wander too far.

The researchers who once lived here were convinced they’d isolated a frequency older than human breath, a vibration hidden in the bedrock of the world. They called it the Deep Pulse. When played aloud, it rearranged thoughts, then memories, then will.

Redwake was built to study the phenomenon. Or maybe to quarantine it. The documents never agree.

What’s certain is this: one night the station sent a final transmission, a distorted tone that rattled across nearby settlements, followed by a single word rendered untranslatable by every modern system. After that, silence.

Now the lights glow again. The snow around the stilts is disturbed.

The Void Remembers. 

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Redwake Station Part 5 - Deep, Sci-fi, Nature Ambient [Sleep/Study/Relaxation]

The Droning Void is a descent into the depths of sound and silence — devoted to dark ambient and deep drone soundscapes that conjure the forgotten, the unseen, and the unknowable.

Each composition is crafted to guide you through emotive abysses, shadowed ruins, and ritual sound chambers — a sonic invocation for those drawn to the obscure and the arcane.

Immerse yourself in sonic rituals.

The Void Remembers.

All content is original. Thanks for your support.

Redwake Station Part 5 - Deep, Sci-fi, Nature Ambient [Sleep/Study/Relaxation]

TheDroningVoid