Zyreth, The Lord of Smoldering Ruin - 8 hour dark ambiance. скачать в хорошем качестве

Zyreth, The Lord of Smoldering Ruin - 8 hour dark ambiance.

The Forsaken One – Zyreth, The Lord of Smoldering Ruin Before the birth of light, before the first breath of life was drawn, there was Zyreth—a being of wrath, a force unchained by the laws of gods or mortals. He did not belong to the abyss, nor did he rise from the ashes of fallen stars. He was the first flame, a hunger that burned at the heart of the void itself. When the gods wove the fabric of existence, sculpting the heavens and forming the celestial order, they feared what lay beyond their sight. They feared the fire that could not be tamed, the inferno that could not be extinguished. They feared Him. The Chains of Heaven The gods sought to control the chaos that lurked in the darkness beyond their dominion. They knew of Zyreth’s power, of his flames that could melt the bones of creation itself. He was not an enemy of their making, nor a creature they could banish to hell. He was something far worse—a remnant of a time before time, when only destruction reigned. And so, the gods forged a prison of unbreakable chains, each link hammered from the hearts of dying stars. They crafted seven sacred seals, inscribed with runes of cosmic authority, and bound Zyreth beneath the foundations of the universe. His roars shook the very pillars of existence, his rage igniting suns in distant galaxies. For ten thousand ages, he remained sealed in that celestial grave. But fire does not die. Fire waits. Fire hungers. The Return of the Burning One The whispers of Zyreth slithered through the cracks of reality, unseen by the gods but heard by those who sought power beyond their mortal grasp. Kings, sorcerers, and warlords—all had felt his call. They built temples of obsidian and iron, sacrificing entire civilizations in his name. They bathed in the flames of the old world, carving his sigil into their very flesh, hoping to be granted a fraction of his terrible power. And with every soul consumed in his name, the chains that bound him weakened. The gods, now fractured and fading, could do nothing as the seventh and final seal shattered. And when Zyreth rose, he did not return alone. The skies turned black as a wave of molten ruin engulfed the heavens. Entire pantheons, divine cities, and sacred realms were swallowed whole. The gods, once eternal, perished like insects in the wake of an unstoppable wildfire. The Wrath of a Forgotten God Zyreth did not conquer. He did not rule. He had no throne, no need for worship, no thirst for dominion. **He was hunger incarnate, and his purpose was singular—**to burn all that the gods had built, to reduce existence to cinders, to return the universe to its rightful state: fire, ash, and nothingness. The last worlds crumbled beneath his gaze. The last stars flickered and died. And as the last dying god gasped his final breath, he whispered a truth that had been buried since the beginning of creation: "We did not create this world. We only borrowed it from the fire." Now, the cosmos burns, and Zyreth’s hunger is not yet sated. For fire does not fade. Fire does not bow. Fire only consumes.