Kael Vaelwyn - 10 - The Road Beneath My Blood

cinematic progressive dark pop, emotional male vocal, slow atmospheric intro, intimate verses, evolving choruses (each bigger and more powerful), powerful anthemic choruses, piano, strings, deep cinematic drums, 85 bpm, fantasy theme, controlled power, identity and restraint, modern cinematic production

[Intro]
I wanted to tell him no.
I wanted him out of our road.
But my voice still carried Confluentia’s confession,
and the village had not stopped listening.

My mother understood before me :
a danger kept before our eyes
was better than a danger driven into shadow.

We did not accept him.
We kept him visible.

If he followed us, we could see his hands.
If he vanished, we would no longer know
where to search for the next knife.

[Verse I]
The Draekar did not look at me
the way the others had looked before.
Not with easy hatred,
or with fear already sure.

There was distrust in him, yes.
He had just come close to death.
But something else remained in his eyes,
something cautious and almost gentle in breath.

I offered that we speak elsewhere,
away from stares and clenched teeth.
He watched me a few seconds too long.
I thought I knew that look beneath.

The one they place upon a creature
whose body will not match the rules.
Then he lowered his eyes,
and accepted what I asked him to.

[Pre-Chorus I]
The village around us
still held by planks and wind.
Closed doors, empty windows,
voices folded back within.

He gave me his name.
Agnir.
Simply.

I expected the usual question:
my hair, my eyes, my blood,
this mixture no one knows how to read
without first looking for a threat in it.

But he did not begin with that.

[Break – spoken]
What you said before them… was it true ?

[Chorus I]
I answered yes.
Without saying I had not meant to.
Without asking that it change
anything they knew.

Confluentia had come out of me.
The streets had emptied by my fault.
Even if my hands still trembled
where I had held them back too late.

Agnir stayed silent for a long time.
Then he crossed his arms,
as if he searched for the right phrase
and would not make it wrong.

[Break – spoken]
All those innocent people…
You do not seem as if you did it willingly.
That must be difficult to carry.

[Verse II]
I did not know how to answer at once.
It was not forgiveness or accusation.
It was worse, perhaps:
someone who owed me nothing
had seen the weight before the fault.

I looked around myself.
The stranger still stood there.
Too calm and precise in the way he waited.
My mother spoke to him, and for once
his eyes were not on me.

Agnir understood without insisting.
He changed the subject.

He spoke of what he sensed in me.
Like something ancient
that did not stand straight in what he knew.

[Pre-Chorus II]
I told him I did not know my origin.
Not really.
Only what my mother had told me
of the day she found me.

A black egg.
Red marks upon the shell.
And two white wings embedded in the matter,
as if another law had touched the first one well.

Agnir furrowed his brow.
No disgust and no retreat.
Only the sincere effort
to understand what stood before him.

[Break – spoken]
Draekars carry the egg until birth.
But an egg abandoned outside the body…
that is not an ordinary birth among us.
And we do not have wings.
That is Sélari.

[Chorus II]
He told me draekar magic
and Sélari magic
were not meant to hold together.
Not like this. Not in one being.

He said it without hardness,
and perhaps that was what troubled me.
Others had made my body an accusation.
He made it into a question.

He looked at me again.
This time, I clenched my teeth.
And I spoke before my patience
could hold the words beneath.

[Break – spoken]
Why are you looking at me like that ?

Sorry. I did not mean to.
It is only that… you seem familiar to me.
And I do not know why.

[Verse III]
I asked if it was my draekar blood.
He answered that it might be so.
Then he shook his head,
as if that answer was not enough to know.

He did not pretend to know.
He did not sell certainty.
That alone made him more credible
than all who named my night before me.

He spoke to me of Draekon.
Not as refuge, nor a place that would know all.
But as the only land
where the question could be asked at all.

There, the stories did not come from other peoples.
Shame might bear another name.
The lands themselves still carried
what war had left inside the frame.

[Transition]
My mother still spoke low to the stranger.
She fixed a limit there.

He accepted without arguing.
Because an answer under frame
was better than complete refusal.

He turned toward me.
His first question did not touch my blood,
nor my flames,
nor what I had done to Confluentia.

It searched for origin.
The first form.
The first fact.

I let him finish.
Then I asked the only question
that had to come before his own.

[Break – spoken]
Who exactly am I speaking to ?

Reinhardt. My identity does not alter the question.

He said it without hardness.
But his calm was too straight.

His gaze never fled.
His voice never shook.
As if, behind his words,
some part of him had been stored too far
to answer anymore.

I did not know if that reassured me
or made me want to step back.
But I answered what seemed exact.

[Break – spoken]
My origin is something I am still searching for.

He remained still.
No surprise on his face.
Only that quiet precision,
as if ignorance itself
had just entered his calculation.

[Break – spoken]
That is an insufficient answer, but a useful one.

[Pause]

[Bridge]
Then the road changed weight.
It was the first direction
that did not ask me to disappear.

The south-east waited without promise,
but without having chosen my crime.
Agnir walked ahead of us
with no hatred at his back,
and something in that simplicity
made fear less alone.

[Final Chorus]
I was not walking toward pardon or proof.
I was walking toward the first land
where the black part inside me
might not be named by my enemies.

I did not wait for open arms.
I did not wait for the dead to fade.
I only wanted to hear a truth
that had not been made against them.

If my blood carried a road,
then it had to lead past fear.
If my name still had to wound,
then I had to know why here.

[Outro]
We left the village behind
with too many eyes at our backs.
Agnir kept silent for a while,
then walked as if he knew the dust.

Reinhardt followed.
His steps did not need threat.
They were there, simply,
like a question we had not invited yet.

I did not look back.
The road descended toward Draekon,
toward the lands the world accused
when it no longer knew what to fear.

Confluentia had learned my name through absence.
Draekon would learn it differently.

6306/7500

[Intro] I wanted to tell him no. I wanted him out of our road. But my voice still carried Confluentia’s confession, and the village had not stopped listening. My mother understood before me : a danger kept before our eyes was better than a danger driven into shadow. We did not accept him. We kept him visible. If he followed us, we could see his hands. If he vanished, we would no longer know where to search for the next knife. [Verse I] The Draekar did not look at me the way the others had looked before. Not with easy hatred, or with fear already sure. There was distrust in him, yes. He had just come close to death. But something else remained in his eyes, something cautious and almost gentle in breath. I offered that we speak elsewhere, away from stares and clenched teeth. He watched me a few seconds too long. I thought I knew that look beneath. The one they place upon a creature whose body will not match the rules. Then he lowered his eyes, and accepted what I asked him to. [Pre-Chorus I] The village around us still held by planks and wind. Closed doors, empty windows, voices folded back within. He gave me his name. Agnir. Simply. I expected the usual question: my hair, my eyes, my blood, this mixture no one knows how to read without first looking for a threat in it. But he did not begin with that. [Break – spoken] What you said before them… was it true ? [Chorus I] I answered yes. Without saying I had not meant to. Without asking that it change anything they knew. Confluentia had come out of me. The streets had emptied by my fault. Even if my hands still trembled where I had held them back too late. Agnir stayed silent for a long time. Then he crossed his arms, as if he searched for the right phrase and would not make it wrong. [Break – spoken] All those innocent people… You do not seem as if you did it willingly. That must be difficult to carry. [Verse II] I did not know how to answer at once. It was not forgiveness or accusation. It was worse, perhaps: someone who owed me nothing had seen the weight before the fault. I looked around myself. The stranger still stood there. Too calm and precise in the way he waited. My mother spoke to him, and for once his eyes were not on me. Agnir understood without insisting. He changed the subject. He spoke of what he sensed in me. Like something ancient that did not stand straight in what he knew. [Pre-Chorus II] I told him I did not know my origin. Not really. Only what my mother had told me of the day she found me. A black egg. Red marks upon the shell. And two white wings embedded in the matter, as if another law had touched the first one well. Agnir furrowed his brow. No disgust and no retreat. Only the sincere effort to understand what stood before him. [Break – spoken] Draekars carry the egg until birth. But an egg abandoned outside the body… that is not an ordinary birth among us. And we do not have wings. That is Sélari. [Chorus II] He told me draekar magic and Sélari magic were not meant to hold together. Not like this. Not in one being. He said it without hardness, and perhaps that was what troubled me. Others had made my body an accusation. He made it into a question. He looked at me again. This time, I clenched my teeth. And I spoke before my patience could hold the words beneath. [Break – spoken] Why are you looking at me like that ? Sorry. I did not mean to. It is only that… you seem familiar to me. And I do not know why. [Verse III] I asked if it was my draekar blood. He answered that it might be so. Then he shook his head, as if that answer was not enough to know. He did not pretend to know. He did not sell certainty. That alone made him more credible than all who named my night before me. He spoke to me of Draekon. Not as refuge, nor a place that would know all. But as the only land where the question could be asked at all. There, the stories did not come from other peoples. Shame might bear another name. The lands themselves still carried what war had left inside the frame. [Transition] My mother still spoke low to the stranger. She fixed a limit there. He accepted without arguing. Because an answer under frame was better than complete refusal. He turned toward me. His first question did not touch my blood, nor my flames, nor what I had done to Confluentia. It searched for origin. The first form. The first fact. I let him finish. Then I asked the only question that had to come before his own. [Break – spoken] Who exactly am I speaking to ? Reinhardt. My identity does not alter the question. He said it without hardness. But his calm was too straight. His gaze never fled. His voice never shook. As if, behind his words, some part of him had been stored too far to answer anymore. I did not know if that reassured me or made me want to step back. But I answered what seemed exact. [Break – spoken] My origin is something I am still searching for. He remained still. No surprise on his face. Only that quiet precision, as if ignorance itself had just entered his calculation. [Break – spoken] That is an insufficient answer, but a useful one. [Pause] [Bridge] Then the road changed weight. It was the first direction that did not ask me to disappear. The south-east waited without promise, but without having chosen my crime. Agnir walked ahead of us with no hatred at his back, and something in that simplicity made fear less alone. [Final Chorus] I was not walking toward pardon or proof. I was walking toward the first land where the black part inside me might not be named by my enemies. I did not wait for open arms. I did not wait for the dead to fade. I only wanted to hear a truth that had not been made against them. If my blood carried a road, then it had to lead past fear. If my name still had to wound, then I had to know why here. [Outro] We left the village behind with too many eyes at our backs. Agnir kept silent for a while, then walked as if he knew the dust. Reinhardt followed. His steps did not need threat. They were there, simply, like a question we had not invited yet. I did not look back. The road descended toward Draekon, toward the lands the world accused when it no longer knew what to fear. Confluentia had learned my name through absence. Draekon would learn it differently.

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