![]() A wild and untamed sort of music that speaks to me. It tears down the barriers of reason, until you are lost in a tempest of images and illusions, sinful thoughts and deeds, shadows and light. You can't read it with your eyes nor your brain. Just when you think you finally grasped it, it slips through your fingers. ![]() When you dive into Wintersong, reality is not something concrete. A half-remembered lullaby, sang softly in a cold, white night that filled you with longing and nostalgia, a music your mind could not fully comprehend but a part of you recognized. “Now the days of winter begin, and the Goblin King rides abroad, searching for his bride.” They became enemies, friends, strangers, lovers, but their story was not meant to have a happy ending. He waited in his gloomy kingdom, until he ran out of patience and kidnapped the girl's sister, in order to lure the girl into his cold and cruel domain. For a world where she was the protagonist and not the one hiding behind her siblings. She continued her life as if he never existed, she kept her family together, composed her music in the dark and wished, for attention, for desire, for greatness. “Once there was a little girl who played her music for a little boy in the wood.”īut the girl grew up, and forgot about the boy. I claim this beautiful tale, I claim the sorrow, the dreams, the wildness, the magic, the darkness and the pain that consumed me.
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