⚜️Suno & Dragons: Quest for Salvation Book 2 ° Hunt down the gods ⚜️The story continues: All parts are here: https://suno.com/playlist/f59aa7f2-e96f-4f6a-aee2-2c86502332d9 ⚜️ Part 1: The Tear in the Snow The sky above the shattered chapel had not yet healed when the vacuum struck. Finn’s unleashed eruption of light had not merely burned the world—it had crushed the fabric of reality like dry, rotten wood. Out of that tear, she glided into existence. No cry, no tears, no birth—just a sudden, sharp "I" dropping onto the frozen void. She bore no scars, yet from her very first breath, her mind was overflowing with the knowledge of ages. She knew how cities were raised, how blood tasted, and precisely how mortal hearts broke. Yet none of it belonged to her. What drew her was the heat. Not a gentle warmth, but the stench of scorched flesh, broken oaths, and fresh, unbridled wrath. Following the trail, she found the Cleric. Valeska. A woman bleeding into the deep snow, dragging a far-too-heavy iron broadsword behind her. No greeting was exchanged. Valeska took one look, recognized the entity for what it was, and swung Gideon’s sword without hesitation—a lethal arc meant to purge the air. But the steel met only frozen wind. The demon stepped aside in an effortless, dancing motion, entirely unimpressed by the holy iron, laughing at the clumsy weight of the blow. When Valeska spat blood and turned to march on, the creature did not fade away. It fell into step beside her. Step by step, humming quietly, asking endless questions that stabbed like needles into Valeska’s fresh wounds. The Cleric pressed her teeth together so hard they threatened to shatter, pursued by an uninvited shadow that treated her living nightmare as a private performance. ⚜️Part 2: The Nature of Demons There are no small demons. There are no cradles, no childhoods, and no demon mothers. Beneath the skin of the world lies the Prime Soul—an eternal, lightless ocean formed from every memory, death, sin, and emotion ever thought or suffered on earth. A colossal archive of existence where all things merge together until individual names cease to exist. Demons do not come into being through reproduction; they are birthed by cataclysm. When a massive magical or divine event shatters the boundary above, the shockwave strikes like lightning into the depths of the Prime Soul. A pocket of consciousness rises, severs itself from the collective, and solidifies on the surface into a single, distinct individual. The moment a demon steps into the physical realm, it is complete. It carries the entire weight of the Prime Soul's knowledge: the anatomy of mortals, the mechanics of magic, the names of forgotten wars, and the concepts of good and evil. It knows precisely how grief, despair, or love feel. Yet that is the critical distinction: they do not feel those emotions themselves. To a demon, human tragedy is not a horror—it is pure theory. A grand theatrical play learned by heart from the archive, now observed "live" for the very first time. Demons carry no personal trauma. They harbor no guilt. They are neither good nor evil; they are merely physical manifestations of raw impulses from the Prime Soul. Some awake as destroyers, some as seducers, and others—like Valeska’s new companion—as personified, icy curiosity. They can rarely be slain by ordinary steel because their bond to the physical realm is elastic. And they cannot be converted or redeemed, for they already know everything there is to know. -------------Lyrics-------------- [Intro: Fast, syncopated dissonant guitar riff with frantic erratic tempo] [Verse 1: Fast, sharp clean vocals, playful sarcastic tone] I was no one... then the sky split wide! A blinding shockwave where the dead worlds hide! Torn from the ocean of the ancient Prime, I stepped through the tear into flesh and time. I know the name of every king who bled, I know the math of all the forgotten dead. No cradle, no mother, no scars on my skin— Just a sudden "I" where the void had been! And through the freezing, silent snow... I smell a fire I used to know. [Verse 2: Accelerating tempo, driving double-bass drums] Not the holy light that birthed my name, But a mortal soul in a cage of flame! A bleeding priestess, dragging heavy iron, Cursing the frost like a wounded siren. Her grief is ancient, her hatred is stale— A thousand times told in a mortal's tale! Yet there she stands, so raw, so loud... A lone, dark shadow in a burning shroud. [Chorus: Catchy avant-garde refrain, multi-layered high clean vocals] NO TRAUMA TO WEAR! NO TEARS TO BE SHED! JUST A SEAT IN THE FRONT FOR THE PATH OF THE DEAD! SWING YOUR STEEL, SACRED FOOL, RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT! I WILL WALK IN YOUR SHADOW AND MOCK YOUR CRUSADE! YOU CANNOT KILL WHAT WAS NEVER MADE! [Verse 3: Chaotic progressive riffing, dynamic tempo shift] She knew my nature with a single glance, No words were wasted in our silent dance. She raised her dead companion's crushing blade— A furious arc in the icy shade! A holy strike, meant to purge the air... I stepped aside, leaving only air! Her heavy iron struck the frozen ground, Her breath a hiss, a defeated sound. She glared through blood at my smiling face, Cursing my presence in this godless place. [Bridge: Minimalist instrumentation, nervous bass solo, quiet cymbals. Whispering, mocking vocal delivery] She turns her back. She treads the snow. She wants to be alone with her quiet woe. So I match her stride, step for step, Shedding no blood, keeping no secret kept. I point at the tracks, I laugh at her scars, I whisper the secrets of ancient stars. She teeth-grinds the frost, her fists clenched tight— Her personal tormentor in the arctic night. [Chorus: Catchy avant-garde refrain, multi-layered high clean vocals] NO TRAUMA TO WEAR! NO TEARS TO BE SHED! JUST A SEAT IN THE FRONT FOR THE PATH OF THE DEAD! SWING YOUR STEEL, SACRED FOOL, RUN THROUGH THE NIGHT! I WILL WALK IN YOUR SHADOW AND MOCK YOUR CRUSADE! YOU CANNOT KILL WHAT WAS NEVER MADE! [Outro: Full progressive black metal explosion, erratic tempo shifts, piercing high female screams] "Keep walking, Cleric! The trail is cold! Show me how far your hatred goes!" (Show me how far your hatred goes!) [Guitars cut abruptly] [Fade out]
