Strix: Maledictae in aeternum

E fu nel 1313 che si accesero i primi roghi della follia. L'antica stregoneria fu celata nel profondo delle foreste e mai cancellata dal tempo trasmessa nell'animo dei figli dell'oscura Arte.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

Corpse god of the death followers. Enslave and use me as a holy hammer. To destroy the ancient cults and all the fools that don't believe in thee. I shall obey on thy commands Frightened and terrorized by my sin. Breathe through my imperfect tongue. Burn all the ones that will try to deny the holy path. God against life God against all. Tu solus dominus. Pater! Let us prey in thy name to eradicate satan. He who shines in thy reflected light Let us reign on earth as thee in heaven and hell With tortures and crimes. With great sufferings. Gratus tibi sum magna tua gloria. We'll bring horror in the sign of peace. A dead body nailed to the cross. Example and symbol of intollerance to follow. Let darkness falls on earth. Let our fires and chants resound in this valley of tears. We will bring your reign to those pagans. In hatred and forgiveness... In blood. In blood, blood and redemption. They will desire to die. They will seek for a rapid death in thy name. Laudatus sit qui venit in nomine tuo. Burn them to clean their aims. Burn! With! Burn! Because life is not here but after death!

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 25, 2025

Slowly and inexorably I turn into ashes I cannot turn back the time has come. Circle of stars will be forgotten with my departure my time is at the end. After glorious and great times. From my childhood to my maturity I became strong with the blood of the sacrificed I became powerful with the knowledge of the Ancients. Yggdrasill, Irminsul were my names I symbol of the unity between earth and sky I pillar of the world now forgotten and persecuted. No more dances! No more offerings! No more gods! Only wood, dead wood! I was strong with blood and sacrifices I was powerful with the knowledge of the ancient cults. After glorious passed centuries the link is broken now and you'll wash your hands in ashes. Our link is broken, be free and die as I'll be your tomb. Dead! Woden! Coffin! For mankind! You! Cruel! Man! Die!

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 25, 2025

I spoke to thee my son. Follow my will I spoke to thee my slayer. Be my arm I spoke to thee my slave. Obey for the eternal life. You have to eliminate all those who don't practice my preaches. You have to bring them salvation through flames and fear Fiat voluntas tua sic in caelo et in terra I had the revelation because I represent him on earth. He wants you to kill in thy name. For His glory for centuries to come. In nomine pater filius et spiritu mortis

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 25, 2025

I spoke to thee my son. Follow my will I spoke to thee my slayer. Be my arm I spoke to thee my slave. Obey for the eternal life. You have to eliminate all those who don't practice my preaches. You have to bring them salvation through flames and fear Fiat voluntas tua sic in caelo et in terra I had the revelation because I represent him on earth. He wants you to kill in thy name. For His glory for centuries to come. In nomine pater filius et spiritu mortis

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

The village sleeps and all is silent in the dark night no dogs and the cockrel hasn't sung to break the spell. Spirits of the wind, you are silent too. The stranger rocks on the tree in his cradle of death. Three drops of his blood fall on the dark lands caressed by the shadows and protected by the moon. They have brought the great dame into our realm. Silver is the path, that leads to the silent woods and three lone women walk praying and singing ancient liturgy. Three low flames dance in the night, saint sacred and cursed because a spell of love and hatred will be cast. Milk and honey will be offered to the ancient motherland the witches, letting down their long hair sing their virginity to the moon. Only the spirits have eyes for them only the ancients can feed on their nude and sculputer bodies that dance in the darkness. The damp leaves stroke the hand on the lady of the witches, she who is rendered magic and potent with the oil, she is the lady of flight, she is the Mandragora. In the flash of lighting that cuts the darkness, the great dame is pulled from the earth, root that brings visions, love and hate, she is the Mandragora. Queen of the sabba. Bodies jerk in the frenetic dance, to the sound of screams from the infernal realm. The earth shakes and the witches sing, in honour of the goddess and the dark roots. She is the Mandragora that consecrates this great rite.

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 25, 2025

Dark waters from the earth doors to the underworld, magical portal without return. Home for spirits guardians and demons. They live there where no one can pass Evil spirits with damned eyes. The eyes of the well. Glimmering and charming they hide the beauty of death inside. Don't look into the well or you'll fall down. Don't look into the well or you'll lost your aim. Fashinated by the deep you'll become possessed by the eyes Vertigo will take your head as your body trembles in fear. A cold hand will touch your face and you'll fall into the oblivion. Kissing the lips that have not to be touched, falling in the cold arms and their deadly embrace. Your life will become nourishment for the ancient entity that lives here since acons. Evil spirit with damned eyes. The eyes of the well. Don't look into the well or you'll fall down. Don't look into th ewell or you'll lost your aim.

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 25, 2025

Earth is mother. Nature is female. Fire is father, fire is male, fire is human justice. He isn't opposed to Earth, but they slip the one into the other. The witch is earth's daughter. She turns in ashes burning in the fire, so she can go back into earth's embrace, si snake's circle eternally turns. They taught her how to read birds'flight. And messages of leaves in the wind. The old maid shown her the ancient stone throne worn out by tempest and rain, but full of powerful magic. Every uneven Friday at sunset went the old maid to the throne, there at the crossing of three paths, to wash the stone with a white hen's blood to wake up earth spirit's might. But men, intoxicated by their silly pride forgot these holy powers, so spirits with a lightning smashed their souls and illness and death slaughtered them all. They taught her how to turn herself in a howl, and fly in moonless nights, and over the hills, and down in deep shafts, where she met her sisters, to celebrate season's jubilation. They taught her how to change herself in a hare, to run away and hide herself in woods, from the ones who wanted to dominate her. When the dark red blood ran slowly and thick wetted her innocence between her white thights her mother told her the time had come for her to be a daughter of the Earth. A black haundled knife was her holy present, and she taught her to hold it, and how to take flower and herbs vibrations. She taught her what power stood still. In forests and woods, and hidden in deep roots. Power of life, power of death. But dark were those times, and finally sword prevailed on cup. So her body was parted from her soul. And her own children lighted her stake. In an august day of 1471.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025

I celebrate Ecate Trivia, loving protector of the roads, Terrain, sea and celestial, the crocus coloured cloak. Burial, firm with the souls of the dead. Daughter of Crio, lover of solitude and supreme of the stags. Nocturnal protector of dogs, invincible quee, announced by the howl of the beasts, unbeatable without a belt. Domer of bulls, the lady that keeps the keys to the cosmos. Mountain goer, guide, nymph, feeder of the young. Of the young girl that begs to assist in the sacred rites. Benevolent to her devotes, always with joyful soul.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025

Through the sacred hole she stares at the three flames in the dark and damp ground. En Erebos, phos, In umbra lux Invoking her power, her effigy will come to life. Dance in a violent vortex of spirals and you will hear her voice. I celebrate Ecate lady of the crossroads, of the moon and the night. I celebrate Ecate in the woods of Avern. In your pale hands you raise the torch that lights our way. The way through the darkness where the shadows hide the sacred mysteries. Dark light of the three worlds, lady of the keys, guardian of hell and human psychi. Lighten my path to your winter reign with your moon scythe. Silver shines in her eyes, because you are the cast and the meretrice, the lymph and death. In your complete and stronger than any other, Guide me, because obscurity for you has no secrets In the Avern the torch dims out in the darkness. Ecate, Ecate, Dark Mother take me in. Ecate, Ecate, let me be reborn. Ecate, Ecate, let me be transformed. Ecate, Lady of the crossroads, I stand where three paths meet. Ecate, Lady of the crossroads, I ask that you guide my feet.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

La notte di san Giovanni venivano con cavalli bianchi, coperti da drappi dorati. Quando la luna bagnava il prato fra il Corno Bianco e quello Nero le donne scendevano da cavallo, scioglievano i capelli e raccoglievano i fiori che quella notte erano sbocciati. Primule ed arniche, calendule ed iperico, valeriana, capelli delle streghe e barbe di caprone. Lontano si sentiva un canto. Terra madre delle erbe, Luna madre dell'argento, Morte padre del ferro, Saturno padre del piombo e tu Zolfo che vieni dal profondo fiorite tutti nella notte di san Giovanni. Quello che si è sciolto nel grembo della terra lo ha bevuto l'acqua e si è fatto fiore. Si avvicina la mezzanotte, bisogna affrettarsi perché inizia il ballo. Angoscia di violini la danza emana odore e calore, la luna stringe il suo raggio. Dietro gli alberi fruscii e ombre e ghigni, le movenze si fanno più strette. La Luna tramonta. I sacchi delle erbe sono pieni. Tornano i cavalli a riportar le donne al Latemar e al Lagorai. Questo sino alla prossima luna.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025

Ho un segreto, un segreto celato nel sogno. Gli alberi e gli spiriti ne sono custodi. Se vuoi conoscere spogliati della tua fede perché la croce ferma le anime e uccide il gran gioco. Non vestirti di sole ma della argentea madre notturna, luce della tenebra, unico fuoco sacro e profumato Dai suoi fiumi dipartono le schiere della selvaggia caccia. Loro, condottieri nel regno dei morti schiudono i cancelli dei mondi. Al suon del corno galoppano bianchi spettri alle brighe di Betric. Neri segugi veloci seguono in una corale infera e tonante tanto che chi non fa parte della buona gente sarebbe morta divorata dall'orribile visione. Loro sono anime inquiete, liberi spiriti silvani che tornano dalle loro sacre donne nate fate e morte spose del demonio. Luna splendente in una notte vestita di un antico manto. Canto a te divina madre, signora di vita e morte la mia storia notturna.

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025