💙09 - The Green Wolf Watches [Runes of Wyrd]🤍

Melodic black metal, dark, atmospheric and highly melodic, Fast tempo with intense blast beats and dynamic drum patterns, Distorted guitars with tremolo picking, dissonant harmonies and haunting melodic leads, Tagelharpa prominently featured, used in dissonance and layered with the guitars to create constant tension and a cold, ritualistic atmosphere, Viking folk elements integrated: tagelharpa, bone percussion, low Nordic horns, subtle flutes, No modern pop elements, Vocals: wide expressive range, Harsh black metal screams, tortured whispers, ritual cries, almost theatrical delivery, Contrasted by powerful, emotional Viking warrior choirs, deep male voices chanting like a sacred rite, Atmosphere: dark, epic, mystical, like a funeral ritual for a fallen king, blending grief and divine presence, Production: ultra high quality, wide stereo, cinematic, deep low-end, immersive layering

Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e

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The screams coming from King Håkon Eldrún’s chamber cut through the palace like a blade in the night. Skörta and Helena rushed forward without a word, their footsteps echoing sharply against the stone as they crossed the corridor. When they pushed the door open, the air itself felt frozen.

Moments later, Torstein, Bruno, and Mikell arrived behind them. In the great hall they had just left, the noise had died instantly. No laughter, no clashing mugs. It was as if time itself had paused.

On the bed, the king was still alive.

Barely.

His hand trembled weakly in the air, searching. Skörta dropped to her knees beside him and caught it, wrapping both of her hands around his cold fingers.

“Father... I’m here... breathe slowly... please...”

Her voice wavered despite her effort to steady it. There was no wound, no blood, nothing visible to explain his condition. Yet his eyes... they were hollow, as if something had been taken from within him.

The king tried to speak. His throat tightened, his lips trembled, but no sound came at first. Skörta leaned closer.

“Don’t force it... take your time... I’m listening...”

A rough breath finally escaped him.

“You must... stop the Winter...”

Skörta frowned, confusion flashing across her face. She glanced briefly around the room, searching for meaning in the others, then bent closer again.

“How, father? How do you expect me to stop the Fimbulvetr?”

His grip tightened faintly around her hand, fragile but deliberate, as if anchoring her to him for one last moment.

“You must... find... the verdant wolf... it can help you... perhaps... if... it does not kill you first...”

A heavy silence fell.

“What are you saying?” she whispered. “What wolf?”

A figure stepped forward then and knelt beside the bed.

Mikell.

His dark gaze settled on the king.

“Was it this wolf that did this to you, my king?”

But the king no longer moved.

His body had gone still.

Completely.

Skörta’s cry tore through the room. She shook him once, then again, refusing to accept it, searching desperately for a breath that would not return.

Torstein stepped forward.

“Princess, I...”

She placed a hand gently on his arm.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s over... He is already feasting in Valhalla...”

Helena approached carefully.

“Skörta... I’m sorry. But... do you understand what he meant?”

The princess did not answer immediately. She took her father’s other hand and pressed it to her forehead, holding it there as if trying to remain connected to him. That was when she felt something.

An object.

She loosened his fingers slightly.

A ring.

Black, carved with the head of a wolf.

Helena froze. Bruno did too.

“Helena... look!” Bruno blurted, almost instinctively. “That’s the ring I told you about!”

Helena slowly raised her eyes.

“Everyone out. I need to speak with the princess.”

Mikell let a faint smile form.

“I think you want me to stay... That ring... I may know where it comes from.”

Helena stared at him.

“By Freyja... who are you, really? Fine. Speak.”

The others left, the silence growing heavier as the door closed behind them.

Mikell stepped closer to the body.

“The king spoke of a verdant wolf. This ring... it resembles the lineage of Fenrir. I have heard that his son, Sköll, vanished. If he still exists... he may be the closest thing to that wolf.”

Skörta lifted her head, eyes still clouded with grief.

“You speak of legends... and my father died in his sleep. This is murder.”

Mikell inclined his head slightly.

“The gods do not act like men. But they watch... and sometimes... they speak. Through dreams.”

Helena crossed her arms.

“So you’re telling us we need to find a lost god. That’s your answer.”

“Not lost,” Mikell replied calmly. “The worlds are not as far apart as we believe. Even without the Bifröst... there may still be paths. Through the World Tree.”

“Yggdrasil is not in Midgard,” Skörta said firmly.

“Are you certain?” he murmured. “It connects everything. And some can still listen to it...”

He paused.

“We would need an Andfuglsjá. Someone who can read the spirits through birds.”

Silence settled over them.

Helena raised her eyes, skeptical.

But Skörta did not react the same way.

Something had taken root in her mind.

An idea.

They remained there for a moment, suspended between death and something far greater, as the weight of the world slowly settled upon the princess’s shoulders.

Because beyond grief...

A queen had just been born.

💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍

He was still warm in my hands
No wound, no blood, just... gone
I called him back, I swear I did
(Father... stay...)
His breath broke like winter ice
I felt it slipping, slipping
What did you see beyond sleep?
(What did you see?)
Why did you look... afraid
Of me... or what comes next

You said stop the winter, how?
We can’t even stop death
Your fingers crushed mine in fear
(Do not go...)
A wolf... green... what madness
Or truth I never learned

If gods speak through dreams
Then why do they kill us
If this is their will
Then I... I refuse silence

THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
It walks inside the dying breath
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES

THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
It breathes inside the shattered crown
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
It hunts beneath forgotten gods
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
And I... I feel it in me now
The Green Wolf Watches

I touched the ring in his palm
Cold... like it knew me
Same mark... same cursed shape
(It calls me...)
Helena saw it too
No one speaks the truth here
Are we chosen... or hunted
(Chosen... hunted...)
I feel the thread tightening
Around my name
Around my throne

Sköll vaknar
Blóð bindr oss
Eldr í draumum
Ríki fellr
Andi kallar
Við hlýðum

THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
It breathes inside the shattered crown
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES
It hunts beneath forgotten gods
And I... I become me now
The Green Wolf Watches

Watches... watches me
The Green Wolf... in me
I hear it... I hear it
The Green Wolf Watches

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In the pic, from left to right King Håkon Eldrún of Norway - Skörta's father The mysterious green wolf Skörta Eldrún (kneeling) – Princess and heir of Norway, daughter of King Håkon Eldrún Mikell Skar - The mysterious wanderer Helena Arvast – Daughter of the jarl Mikal‑Finnvard Arvast, half-sister of Bruno Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 The screams coming from King Håkon Eldrún’s chamber cut through the palace like a blade in the night. Skörta and Helena rushed forward without a word, their footsteps echoing sharply against the stone as they crossed the corridor. When they pushed the door open, the air itself felt frozen. Moments later, Torstein, Bruno, and Mikell arrived behind them. In the great hall they had just left, the noise had died instantly. No laughter, no clashing mugs. It was as if time itself had paused. On the bed, the king was still alive. Barely. His hand trembled weakly in the air, searching. Skörta dropped to her knees beside him and caught it, wrapping both of her hands around his cold fingers. “Father... I’m here... breathe slowly... please...” Her voice wavered despite her effort to steady it. There was no wound, no blood, nothing visible to explain his condition. Yet his eyes... they were hollow, as if something had been taken from within him. The king tried to speak. His throat tightened, his lips trembled, but no sound came at first. Skörta leaned closer. “Don’t force it... take your time... I’m listening...” A rough breath finally escaped him. “You must... stop the Winter...” Skörta frowned, confusion flashing across her face. She glanced briefly around the room, searching for meaning in the others, then bent closer again. “How, father? How do you expect me to stop the Fimbulvetr?” His grip tightened faintly around her hand, fragile but deliberate, as if anchoring her to him for one last moment. “You must... find... the verdant wolf... it can help you... perhaps... if... it does not kill you first...” A heavy silence fell. “What are you saying?” she whispered. “What wolf?” A figure stepped forward then and knelt beside the bed. Mikell. His dark gaze settled on the king. “Was it this wolf that did this to you, my king?” But the king no longer moved. His body had gone still. Completely. Skörta’s cry tore through the room. She shook him once, then again, refusing to accept it, searching desperately for a breath that would not return. Torstein stepped forward. “Princess, I...” She placed a hand gently on his arm. “Don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s over... He is already feasting in Valhalla...” Helena approached carefully. “Skörta... I’m sorry. But... do you understand what he meant?” The princess did not answer immediately. She took her father’s other hand and pressed it to her forehead, holding it there as if trying to remain connected to him. That was when she felt something. An object. She loosened his fingers slightly. A ring. Black, carved with the head of a wolf. Helena froze. Bruno did too. “Helena... look!” Bruno blurted, almost instinctively. “That’s the ring I told you about!” Helena slowly raised her eyes. “Everyone out. I need to speak with the princess.” Mikell let a faint smile form. “I think you want me to stay... That ring... I may know where it comes from.” Helena stared at him. “By Freyja... who are you, really? Fine. Speak.” The others left, the silence growing heavier as the door closed behind them. Mikell stepped closer to the body. “The king spoke of a verdant wolf. This ring... it resembles the lineage of Fenrir. I have heard that his son, Sköll, vanished. If he still exists... he may be the closest thing to that wolf.” Skörta lifted her head, eyes still clouded with grief. “You speak of legends... and my father died in his sleep. This is murder.” Mikell inclined his head slightly. “The gods do not act like men. But they watch... and sometimes... they speak. Through dreams.” Helena crossed her arms. “So you’re telling us we need to find a lost god. That’s your answer.” “Not lost,” Mikell replied calmly. “The worlds are not as far apart as we believe. Even without the Bifröst... there may still be paths. Through the World Tree.” “Yggdrasil is not in Midgard,” Skörta said firmly. “Are you certain?” he murmured. “It connects everything. And some can still listen to it...” He paused. “We would need an Andfuglsjá. Someone who can read the spirits through birds.” Silence settled over them. Helena raised her eyes, skeptical. But Skörta did not react the same way. Something had taken root in her mind. An idea. They remained there for a moment, suspended between death and something far greater, as the weight of the world slowly settled upon the princess’s shoulders. Because beyond grief... A queen had just been born. 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 He was still warm in my hands No wound, no blood, just... gone I called him back, I swear I did (Father... stay...) His breath broke like winter ice I felt it slipping, slipping What did you see beyond sleep? (What did you see?) Why did you look... afraid Of me... or what comes next You said stop the winter, how? We can’t even stop death Your fingers crushed mine in fear (Do not go...) A wolf... green... what madness Or truth I never learned If gods speak through dreams Then why do they kill us If this is their will Then I... I refuse silence THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES It walks inside the dying breath THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES It breathes inside the shattered crown THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES It hunts beneath forgotten gods THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES And I... I feel it in me now The Green Wolf Watches I touched the ring in his palm Cold... like it knew me Same mark... same cursed shape (It calls me...) Helena saw it too No one speaks the truth here Are we chosen... or hunted (Chosen... hunted...) I feel the thread tightening Around my name Around my throne Sköll vaknar Blóð bindr oss Eldr í draumum Ríki fellr Andi kallar Við hlýðum THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES It breathes inside the shattered crown THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES THE GREEN WOLF WATCHES It hunts beneath forgotten gods And I... I become me now The Green Wolf Watches Watches... watches me The Green Wolf... in me I hear it... I hear it The Green Wolf Watches

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