The Apple Pie Ritual

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 🎶 Es gibt da eine deutsche Community für Suno-Artisten... 🎶 🎶 Wir sind die StorytellerZ und Du findest uns im Discord unter: 🎶 👉 https://discord.gg/storytellerz -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- @Seelentanz / Meytsch 2026 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jack Blackwell, Theresza Desandovar, and Cassian Auvrey are on their way to Markenau, where Terry is to take a closer look at the fate of Cassian’s daughter, Gesa. Along the way, the group is ambushed by highwaymen. But Terry reacts promptly... Playlist - https://suno.com/playlist/86144b6f-94b5-48cc-9f6d-7b522e669235 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Intro – ominous medieval atmosphere, low drums, distant bells] [Ritual – female voice only, commanding and increasingly dramatic] Poma munda! In frusta seca! Farinam cerne! Ova adde! [Deep drum strike] Butyrum misce! Saccharum sparg e! Cinnamomum adde! [Verse 1 – female vocal, dry storytelling] We'd ridden since the morning, with Markenau still days away, when six men blocked the narrow road and chose us for their prey. They wanted coin and horses, whatever we could spare. Jack already held his sword, while Cassian stood and stared. I could have used a proper spell. I really could have tried. But magic seemed excessive for six fools at the roadside. [Pre-Chorus – subtle tension rising] They'd heard enough of witches, of curses, blood and flame. So all I really needed was something that sounded the same. [Instrumental drop – ominous drone, ritual drum begins] [Ritual – female voice only, commanding and increasingly dramatic] Poma munda! In frusta seca! Farinam cerne! Ova adde! [Deep drum strike] Butyrum misce! Saccharum sparg e! Cinnamomum adde! [Sudden silence] IN FURNO COQU E! [Instrumental surge – bells, ritual drums, dark medieval textures] [Chorus – strong melodic female vocal] Six men stood before me, six men turned to run. Whatever dreadful fate they feared, apparently had begun. No lightning split the hillside, no demon crossed the sky. Six armed men went running from instructions for a pie. [Instrumental break – threatening music abruptly becomes light lute and flute] [Verse 2 – amused, conversational female vocal] When the last of them had vanished, the road fell quiet again. Cassian kept staring at me, trying hard to comprehend. Jack put away his sword with that particular look I know. The one that means he's wondering just how far this nonsense goes. Eventually they asked me what dreadful spell I'd cast. I told them: [Brief pause] Apple pie. [Tiny lute flourish] My mother's recipe, in fact. [Verse 3 – warmer, playful] Apparently my pronunciation had convinced them otherwise. There is something quite effective about confidence and frightened eyes. Jack seemed mildly offended when he learned what I had done. He'd been ready for a proper fight. I'd barely begun. He asked if all that solemn chanting was instructions meant for bread. It's pie. There's a difference. And I remember what my mother said. [Chorus – warmer and more playful] Six men stood before me, six men turned to run. They'd expected death and darkness, perhaps a curse on everyone. No lightning split the hillside, no fire crossed the sky. Six armed men had fled in terror from my mother's apple pie. [Extended instrumental – melodic lute, cittern, flute and frame drum, gradually returning to mock-ritual tension] [Bridge – mock-serious female ritual reprise] Poma munda! In frusta seca! Farinam cerne! Ova adde! [Music grows absurdly ominous] Butyrum misce! Saccharum sparg e! Cinnamomum adde! [Silence] In furno coqu e. [One enormous ritual drum strike] [Verse 4 – Terry almost laughing, but still controlled] Jack called it terrifying. I told him not to judge before he'd had a slice. Cassian finally started laughing. For once, that felt rather nice. No ancient tongue was needed, no forbidden book or sign. Only apples, eggs and butter, a little sugar and some time. If men insist on fearing every word they don't understand, I see no reason not to use it when the situation's in hand. [Final Chorus – lively medieval melody, female voice only] Six men stood before me, six men turned to run. They came to steal our horses and departed one by one. Let them tell whatever story helps them sleep at night. Of the terrible red-haired sorceress they barely escaped alive. No curse was ever spoken. No one had to die. Just six extremely nervous men... and mother's apple pie. [Outro – sparse lute, female voice dry and intimate] [Huge ominous drum strike] [Ritual – female voice only, commanding and increasingly dramatic] Poma munda! In frusta seca! Farinam cerne! Ova adde! [Deep drum strike] Butyrum misce! Saccharum sparg e! Cinnamomum adde!