Death Cult

Across the strait we come to her, beyond the vale Mother of all in slumber deep The axe is hid no more the din of bloodshed rings Unveil her face to cleanse our minds Bathed in light and now to bathe in holy sea And seek the wisdom of the doomed So comes the priest adorned in blood and fresh cut flesh By water’s edge we gather at dusk Woe Has come to us Black smoke Burns my eyes Enthroned was he The god of ash With blood of rime And eyes of gold Have they left Their wayward spawn To burn? Cower, tremble Incinerate, burn Scrape the soil, rot Hang thy head, and weep The ceaseless wheel, crushing Turns and grinds, burning Your oak to ash

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 02, 2026

Gather and reckon Nine above the mound Eight eyes shine in terror And hold her to the sky Seven days we travelled Through the dead and dark plain Six stones that encircle Hewn with scars of lost words I see five fingers Clasped around dull blade And into the cool waters Four men will be lead forth Three times we drink Into the waking dream Two eyes look up To see one head cleft from its cosmic body His face will crash to the sea And oh how the stars cower in fear Weep not for him! Exalted master of sky The rider of night Who fell to the Earth

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 02, 2026

Stand in holy grove the fire Burns and twists skyward the water Still and deep with corpses they sleep Flung to drown and join their Winged mother Flesh to rope and hearts bound to sky Call to your sisters across worlds Walk between hand of sun Wheel of stars turning changeless Transcend the wasteland of mortality Fly to golden halls on coloured wings Cast thyself into oblivion Rise out of your cage of flesh Fat melts in flame Come embrace your worthless demise Bones crumble to ashes The house of the dark one awaits Dead souls gather A white horse shackled in shadow Faceless, painless, soulless we kneel to Donn

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 02, 2026

Behold the night The dark mane of the yellow mare’s road She wakes from slumber To light their path to the half-burned’s home So wheeled the stars As though seven winters had passed But not once Did her bright hand rise in the trembling sky I feel her woe Tears of the snake foe’s mother She cries to him Whose head tumbled from on high Men will pay In the keep of the ale lord’s arms Yet firеs still gnaw At the hand of one-eyе’s bride Yet still the axe Flies through the new moon night And the still the ash Chokes rivers of the frost giant’s blood

Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 02, 2026