Ne'er Wither the Spinecrone | Agnes Carew

Agnes Carew had always been drawn to strange, forgotten places, where the air grew thick with silence, and the world felt as if it held its breath. But no place had ever called to her like the Hellebore Path.
The path lay just beyond the edge of her village, hidden in a glen where ancient oaks cast twisted shadows over the mossy ground. Few people spoke of it, and those who did described strange sounds that rose like whispers from the soil. A "sonic current," they called it, though they all hurried their explanations with wary glances, as if even the words might beckon the unknown.
One evening, with dusk settling like mist over the trees, Agnes set out alone to find the Hellebore Path. She carried only a small lantern and her notebook, ready to capture whatever sounds came to her. As she stepped onto the path, the air shifted, carrying a low hum that seemed to pulse with her heartbeat. Agnes felt her footsteps soften, as if the earth cushioned her journey, urging her forward.
The deeper she ventured, the more the soundscape revealed itself. First came the delicate notes-high, shimmering tones that echoed like distant bells. She followed them as they looped and danced, guiding her like tiny, invisible fireflies through the darkness. Then, beneath the bright sounds, she heard others, more sombre and weighty, like the deep calls of whales moving through ocean depths. They thrummed through her bones, filling her chest with warmth and reverence.
She stopped to listen, closing her eyes to focus on the symphony surrounding her. But when she opened them again, she was no longer alone. Wisps of fog had gathered into faint shapes, spectral figures with eyes that gleamed like moonlight. They drifted along the path, each leaving a different note in their wake-a melody so old, it felt like it had always been.
Agnes realised then that these sounds weren’t mere echoes. They were memories, notes sung by those who had once wandered the Hellebore Path, and she was not the first to hear them. The spectral figures turned their heads towards her, their eyes aglow with an invitation. She felt the song beckoning her forward, deeper, until she reached the path’s end.
There, a great stone altar lay draped in hellebore flowers. As Agnes stepped closer, the sounds coalesced, lifting into a final crescendo. She placed her hand on the stone, and in that moment, she heard it all-the voices of the past, the forest’s secrets, and a promise that her own footsteps would become part of the melody that wove through the Hellebore Path for centuries to come.
As dawn broke, Agnes found herself at the glen’s edge, the path behind her silent once more. Yet, whenever she closed her eyes, she could still hear it, that ancient song thrumming through her veins, a whisper that she had belonged to the Hellebore Path all along.
infiniteoscill...
#darkambient #soundtrack #experimental #folkhorror