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Half in Shadow (Ritual for Hel)

“Half in Shadow (Ritual for Hel)” is a chant‑driven invocation of Hel as Loki’s half‑living, half‑dead daughter and queen of Niflheim, where the non‑heroic dead and the forgotten find their place. Slow, doom‑like drums, cold drones, and mantra sections turn fear of quiet, ordinary death into a meditation on grief, rest, and the honesty of endings that don’t get a heroic song. [Intro] Hel… Hela… Daughter of Loki, queen of the hidden dead. Half fair, half corpse, throne in Niflheim’s frost, Stand at the border where the living feel lost. [Verse 1] Odin looked on you with a frightened eye, Sent you beneath where the nine worlds lie. Niflheim, Helheim, halls under root, Where those not slain in battle take root. Warriors feast in Valhalla’s light, But you keep the sick and the old through the night. Not just the wicked, not just the damned, But all the forgotten slip into your hand. [Chorus] Hel, Hel, half in shadow, half in skin, Hold the ones whose stories thin. Queen of the northward, downward hall, Guard every soul that the bright gods don’t call. Hel, Hel, hidden keeper of the dead, Sit by the beds where their names are unsaid. If I must face what I’m afraid to feel, Teach me to stand where the cold is real. [Verse 2] They say one side of you is fresh and alive, The other side mottled like a corpse in the ice. Half‑black, half flesh, down‑cast gaze, Beauty and rot in the same cold face. You sit on a throne in a hall called Eljudnir, Plate named “Hunger,” knife named “Famine” near. Yet not every soul there writhes in pain, Many just rest from their labor and strain. [Chorus] Hel, Hel, half in shadow, half in skin, Hold the ones whose stories thin. Queen of the northward, downward hall, Guard every soul that the bright gods don’t call. Hel, Hel, hidden keeper of the dead, Sit by the beds where their names are unsaid. If I must face what I’m afraid to feel, Teach me to stand where the cold is real. [Ritual Section] Hel, take this fear of slow, quiet deaths. Queen of Helheim, guard forgotten breaths. Hel, take this grief that won’t find a home. Hide it in halls under root and stone. Hel, hold the ones I have loved and lost. Wrap them in night, not in fire and frost. Leave me a heart that can sit with the gone, Knowing your realm is where their threads run on. [Verse 3] You kept Baldr when the Aesir begged, Asked all things to weep, one refused and hedged. Not out of pure malice, but rule of your gate— Even the bright must bow to your fate. In modern tales they paint you as spite, But older whispers say “stern, not trite.” A queen of necessity, not hellfire flame, Doing the work no one else will claim. [Chorus] Hel, Hel, half in shadow, half in skin, Hold the ones whose stories thin. Queen of the northward, downward hall, Guard every soul that the bright gods don’t call. Hel, Hel, when my own thread frays, If I come to you by the slow, mortal ways, Let your half‑warm hand be the last I feel, Half in the dark, half terribly real. [Outro] Hel… Hela… One that hides, one that holds. If death is not fire but a room grown still, Teach me to sit there and not break my will. Donations appreciated but not necessary: https://cash.app/$azaleajade9 ETH: 0xf711ce546e20bd237781bce42321dde37b86c5e3