Orchester by East West Symphonic Orchestra, written & arranged by Pascal Peng
Choir by East West Symphonic Choir, written & arranged by Pascal Peng
Drums by Nigel Hilbourne

Mixed by Philipp Erdin and Pascal Peng
Mastered by Philhipp Erdin

Song written, arranged and produced by Pascal Peng

The Story

The legend speaks of a place from mouth to mouth delivered, from sword to sword told, through pain, hunger and misery nourished. War raged through the land. A rotten stench of death hanging always in the air. Every sword that has tasted blood colours itself in dark steel blood. The magic ring that makes all one, blood that binds all, rich and poor, blood that knows itself – it comes from her.

The days of misery, day after day, year after year. Time passes without change, the misery without end. The nights grow longer, the wind increases its’ icy bite and the darkness sinks into the peoples souls. The weak wish for their death and the wounded succumb to their injuries but the lords of the world seek only to increase their power.

From time to time, in mists so cold, appear large eyes of piercing green. Some say they belong to death but in fact they belong to her cat. Sometimes cute like a babycat, sometimes wild and powerful like a black panther. His moves so garcious and soundless, green eyes guiding the half-dead to the other side. He brings their souls to her.

The flames flicker in the fireplace, every person pushing for a warm place. The wind whistles through the holes in the houses, children scream, dogs howl, the people suffer. The tales, the stories, still the legends lend them courage – faith and hope is all that remains to the survivors, but that dwindles ever more.

They long for the secret places that disapeared before even the world was born a log time ago. When the earth was fresh made, time was there but did not fade.

A place so beautiful that man is immediately blinded whosoever only find it with their inner sight. It is told of a woman who there lives, the child of the goddess herself, who knows neither time nor age.

In the morning a girl, playful, running carefree through the fields full to the brim with life. Eager to know the mysteries of live, her golden hair waving in the wind.

In the day she is the strong woman, as if beauty is her daughter. Verity is her soul as she repairs the ruins of the night just passed.

In the fading evening light, her hair grows silvery. The wisdom and peace beam from her strong eyes, her movements grow slower, her body grows unsure. She carries every fold of her skin with pride. Remember, times does not exist here.

In her garden springs a fountain of pure soul water, that feeds a pond that nurtures water lillies of every colour and form. Whosoever that manages to bathe in this water, will have every cell in thei body rejuvenated to perfection.

There is a second stream, where the souls of the dead are gathered. All of their experiences, their memories swim in the flow. Their fears and pain ripple the surface, their love and passion illuminate the waters with variegated colours.

In the night, she sits by the fire. As death comes to visit, the flames gutter in the fireplace as they dance the final dance. The walls fall in, the wind screams in their faces. The lightness splits the dark, the thunder booms and the ground does start to shake. They dance on, in ever tighter embrace. And as he leaves before the morning grey, she asks him how are the children? And will I see you again the very next night? He gives a slight nod of the head and is gone.

Under the tree of life burns a violet flame. That is the everlasting fire of life. She must always feed the flames, with branches and bones. Lest the fire should die and end all life. For every day she takes a jug of water from each of the streams. She mixes them with herbs, roots, bones and a drop of her very own blood. And cooks her brew on the everlasting flame of life with this broth does bring forth renewed life.

Untold souls have, through the eons tried to reach the source if any have achieved this, is never told. All we know is that none ever retourned…

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