(Melodic-Blackmetal) - Wallachia - 'Sojourner' (Full Album)

Track List 1. Woeful Portents 0.00 - 1.03 2. Departure - 1.03 - 8.08 3. Sojourner I - 8.08 - 19.14 4. Sojourner II - 19.14 - 27.02 5. Under the Mountain - 27.02 - 34.22 6. Dawnbringer - 34.22 - 44.16 2. sun on the valley warm wind rising fields like gold breathing in the dawn the sojourner young heart unbroken steps unburdened by the weight to come shadows lengthen on the home‑stone threshold mother weeping father silent as the hills siblings calling names he will forget voices fading before the journey starts mountains distant blue with promise old songs whisper through the summer air ancient omen carved in memory doom awakening beneath the stone years like embers fall behind him roads devoured by the turning world kingdoms rising kingdoms dying seasons thinning into brittle dust forests hollow rivers starving towns like ghosts in the failing light friends forgotten family vanished their graves unknown their names undone sojourner older skin like winter eyes like lanterns burned too long lament heavy as the dying earth hope a burden dragged through ash yet still he walks toward the mountain’s heart toward the deep where the threat was born for doom once spoken can be unmade but only by the one who walks alone 3. see single for lyrics 4. Beyond the vale of silent kings, the path twists, wild and dire, where earth still bleeds its ancient wounds beneath the mountain spires. The peaks awake with buried wrath, their stone‑crowned tempests roar, foretelling debts of mortal flesh the deep will soon restore. The stars that once were guardians fade like embers in the rain, their dying shimmer whispering a truth too vast for names. And through that failing firmament a voice begins to rise — a summons from the shadowed deep where fate in darkness lies. The river widens into dusk where broken helms decay, its waters thick with secrets drowned in wars of yesterday. The forest bows in trembling hush, remembering my tread, for it has watched a thousand times the march of unbound dead. The wind becomes a warning cry that chills the marrow through, the herald of the nameless ones who hunt the night anew. Yet still I walk, though every step resounds with distant doom — a wanderer who bears the weight of kingdoms in their tomb. And when the path descends at last to plains of ashen grey, I stand before the ruins time has carved from mortal clay. Shattered crowns and rusted blades lie strewn in mute despair, the remnants of empires built on hope, devoured by the air. But in the hush that follows ruin, something stirs beneath — a trembling spark that clings to life within the dust and grief. It flickers with a promise faint, a vow not yet betrayed — that even in a dying world, some light defies the fade. From caverns where the tide of night devours the mortal breath, the denizens of oceaned dark rose up to bargain death. Their eyes were storms of ancient grief, their voices cold as stone — yet in their wrath they saw my path, and claimed it as their own. They circled like a living tide, a pact of shadowed grace, and in their gaze I felt the weight of worlds they once embraced. No blade was drawn, no oath was sworn — the conflict bled away, for even horrors of the deep know when the night must stay. And so they turned, and so they sank, returning to their keep, their silence now a shield I bear across the endless deep. A fragile peace, a whispered truce, forged where the dark is made — a promise that in shadow’s heart, some light will never fade. 5. beneath the mountain’s iron crown the stone‑veins pulse like dying gods the tunnels breathe a frozen hate that stirs the dust of ancient frauds the sojourner walks the hollow path with frost‑burned lungs and broken tread the dark below remembers him the deep remembers all the dead a whisper coils through shattered rock a serpent‑voice of drowned despair it calls him by forgotten names it drags its claws through frozen air but still he walks, though bones may crack, though night would claim his mortal spark, for doom is not a chain unbreakable it is a shadow fearing dark the cavern yawns, a living maw its breath a tide of bitter brine the denizens of oceaned night rise twisting from the fault‑line their eyes are storms of buried grief their limbs like roots of rusted stone they circle him with ancient spite and crown him heir to worlds unknown but in their roar he feels a truth, a fracture in the fate they keep, for even horrors born of night can bleed beneath the mountain’s deep he stands against their tidal wrath a lone flame in the choking cold and in that clash the doom unravels — the prophecy no longer holds the deep recoils, the caverns shake the denizens retreat like smoke their pact of ruin torn apart their ancient dominion broke the sojourner climbs the trembling stone, the dawn a wound of silver red, for doom undone is still a burden — and hope is heavier than the dead