[Intro – spoken with hushed reverence, distant wind, slow clockwork ticking] Before nightmares had names, before sleep learned to scream, there was a shadow that followed light and learned its shape. Not born of darkness. Not forged in hate. But made from love that watched the light leave. [Verse 1 – spoken with cold clarity, echoing stone hall acoustics] Umbra Somnus Nyx. Once a watcher of dreams unbroken, keeper of rest untouched by fear. She walked the edges of heaven where angels slept without knowing sleep. She learned humanity before humanity existed. She learned sorrow by listening. [Verse 2 – spoken with restrained grief, voice steady but weighted] When the Morning Star questioned the throne, she did not stop him. She did not follow him either. She waited. Because waiting is what shadows do best. And when the gates shattered, when light fell screaming into time, she reached too late. [Interlude – spoken softly, almost tender, as if recalling a memory] He fell with fire. With rage. With defiance. She fell with silence. With understanding. With love that had nowhere left to go. [Verse 3 – spoken with creeping menace, closer to the listener] The abyss did not claim her. It listened. Nightmares gathered around her like prayers. Dreams curdled into weapons. Sleep became a kingdom. She did not rule by force. She ruled by remembering what was lost. [Verse 4 – spoken with prophetic weight, slow and deliberate] Where Lucifer became rebellion, Umbra became consequence. Where he burned, she endured. Where he raged against heaven, she outlived it. [Final Warning – spoken low, unwavering, absolute silence beneath the words] Remember this when the night feels heavier than it should. When sleep refuses mercy. When dreams whisper your name like a threat. When Lucifer fell from heaven he was not alone. Lucifer fell to earth but Umbra fell further. And she is still falling.
