Story Time: In the ancient Valley of Argalon, where the mist clung to the jagged cliffs and the wind howled through the hollowed ruins, legends still lingered. They spoke of the giants, the towering guardians who once ruled these lands, their footfalls shaking the very ground, their wisdom revered, and their strength feared. It was said that they were the keepers of the forest, protectors of balance, and watchers of the stars. But the giants were no more-extinguished, some said, by human greed, by the ambition that consumed the hearts of men as they grew more powerful and restless. The valley, once a place of wonder, had fallen silent. Only the wind whispered now, carrying stories that no longer had listeners. Rhodian Falk, a young traveler from the distant city of Brith, stood at the entrance of Argalon, staring into the valley's maw. His breath hung in the cool, early morning air, a vapor trail against the backdrop of towering cliffs and the sea of fog that blanketed the valley floor. He had come alone, as many did who sought to uncover the ancient secrets buried within the ruins. The valley was dangerous, not because of wild creatures, but because of what it represented-a place where time stood still, where forgotten truths lay beneath layers of myth and dust. Rhodian had heard the stories as a child, tales of the giants who once walked the earth, their presence so immense that humans seemed like insects in their shadow. It was a story that had always haunted him, one that he felt inexplicably drawn to. He adjusted the strap of his pack and began his descent. The path was treacherous, a winding trail that snaked down the side of the cliff, the rocks loose and slippery from the morning dew. Below him, the fog moved like a living thing, swirling in ghostly tendrils, obscuring the valley’s floor. He couldn’t see much beyond a few feet in front of him, but he could feel the weight of the place-the presence of something ancient, something waiting. After hours of careful hiking, Rhodian reached the bottom. The valley was vast, an expanse of green and gray, with tall trees rising from the mist like sentinels. But it wasn’t the trees that caught his attention-it was the colossal stone figure that loomed in the distance. At first, it was just a shape in the fog, an indistinct shadow. But as Rhodian drew closer, the details began to emerge. It was a head. A stone head, towering over 200 meters tall, its features chiseled with precision and grace. The face was stern, its eyes wide and unblinking, gazing eternally over the valley. It was the face of a giant, a figure of unimaginable size. The statue’s nose alone was larger than any building Rhodian had ever seen, and its lips, slightly parted, gave the impression that it was about to speak. He stopped, awestruck by the sheer scale of it. This was no ordinary relic. This was the likeness of a being that had once existed, a monument to something that was now lost. Rhodian approached the base of the head, his footsteps silent on the moss-covered ground. The stone was weathered, cracks running through it like veins, but the craftsmanship was undeniable. Whoever had carved this, centuries ago, had done so with reverence, with a deep understanding of the figure they were immortalizing. Was this a leader? A king? Perhaps a war hero, someone who had stood against the human encroachment? Rhodian ran his hand along the surface of the stone, feeling the cold, smooth texture beneath his fingertips. The giant’s eyes were blank, empty sockets that once might have been filled with something-perhaps jewels, or maybe they had simply been left hollow to represent the soul that had once filled this massive body. He stood there for a long time, staring up at the face. There was something about it that felt alive, as though the stone was more than just a carving. It was as if the giant could still see, still feel, still judge. Rhodian shook the thought from his mind. It was just a statue, a relic of a forgotten time. But as he began to move away, something caught his eye-at the base of the head, where the statue met the ground, there was an inscription. The language was ancient, one that Rhodian didn’t recognize, but the symbols were unmistakably significant. He knelt down, tracing the lines with his fingers. The letters were deep and jagged, carved into the stone with care, but they had eroded over time, making them difficult to decipher. He pulled a small journal from his pack and began to sketch the inscription, determined to study it later. But as he worked, he felt a sudden shift in the air. The wind, which had been calm, began to stir. The trees swayed, and the mist grew thicker, swirling around him in tighter, more aggressive patterns. Rhodian stood, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He looked up at the giant’s face again. It was the same as before, the same expression, the same blank eyes. And yet, it felt different. The valley had grown colder, the light dimmer. He could hear something-a faint, low hum, like a deep vibration coming from within the earth itself. For the first time, he felt a twinge of doubt. What if the stories were true? What if the giants weren’t extinct but simply... sleeping? The wind howled, and Rhodian’s thoughts raced. He looked around, suddenly feeling very small in the presence of the stone titan. The valley seemed to close in around him, the mist thickening until it felt like he was standing in a cloud. He glanced at the inscription again, trying to make sense of it, but the symbols danced before his eyes, elusive and strange. There was a sound-a deep, resonant crack, like the earth itself splitting open. Rhodian’s heart raced as he spun around, his eyes scanning the fog for any sign of movement. But there was nothing. Only the stone head, looming above him, silent and still. And yet, the feeling persisted. The valley felt... alive. He didn’t know how long he stood there, frozen in place, listening to the wind, to the strange hum that seemed to emanate from the very ground beneath him. Eventually, the fog began to lift, the wind died down, and the valley returned to its quiet, serene state. But something had changed. Rhodian could feel it in his bones, in the very air he breathed. He turned to leave, his steps hurried now, his mind racing. As he made his way back up the path, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched-that the giant, or whatever remained of it, was still observing him, still judging him. When he reached the top of the cliff, he looked back one last time. The stone head was barely visible through the mist, its expression unreadable, its gaze locked on the horizon. Rhodian took a deep breath and turned away, the valley behind him silent once more. But the question remained: Had the giants truly vanished? Or were they simply waiting, biding their time in the stone and the earth, waiting for the day when they would rise again?
I hope you're enjoying this one, your presence and support means a lot : - ) You can support in the following ways: ∞ Download my artwork: orlandoorsen.gumroad.com/ ∞ Send a much appreciated Tip - ko-fi.com/orlandoorsen ∞ Like + Subscribe to my channel - www.youtube.com/@etherealodysseymusic?sub_confirmation=1 ~ ⌾rlando ♡ ∞
A very dense carpet of sound that envelops you and draws you into deep relaxation. The visual reminds me of the statues on Easter Island, very mystical and mysterious.🤍🪽🌈🐞👍🩵👍🐞🌈🪽🤍
I love the mystery and intrigue in this fantastic composition, such immersive piece along with the artistic visual, thank you for sharing your work!!!! 😊💚🕊👍
Wah..wah...our local slang (in urdu) when u appreciate utmost/extremely ones work...another imersive piece that takes you to serenity nd peace!...love u nd ur mastery my friend
Gazing with a piercing emptiness, In silence you tread, the blades of grass they whisper, A colossal relic of staggered and jagged conversations, No peace, but a sense of waiting and anticipation, The cracks of hardship and endurance, Shifting energies edging the ancient texts, and symbols to “crack as shards of glass beneath the unknowing Earth."
Story Time:
In the ancient Valley of Argalon, where the mist clung to the jagged cliffs and the wind howled through the hollowed ruins, legends still lingered. They spoke of the giants, the towering guardians who once ruled these lands, their footfalls shaking the very ground, their wisdom revered, and their strength feared. It was said that they were the keepers of the forest, protectors of balance, and watchers of the stars. But the giants were no more-extinguished, some said, by human greed, by the ambition that consumed the hearts of men as they grew more powerful and restless. The valley, once a place of wonder, had fallen silent. Only the wind whispered now, carrying stories that no longer had listeners.
Rhodian Falk, a young traveler from the distant city of Brith, stood at the entrance of Argalon, staring into the valley's maw. His breath hung in the cool, early morning air, a vapor trail against the backdrop of towering cliffs and the sea of fog that blanketed the valley floor. He had come alone, as many did who sought to uncover the ancient secrets buried within the ruins. The valley was dangerous, not because of wild creatures, but because of what it represented-a place where time stood still, where forgotten truths lay beneath layers of myth and dust. Rhodian had heard the stories as a child, tales of the giants who once walked the earth, their presence so immense that humans seemed like insects in their shadow. It was a story that had always haunted him, one that he felt inexplicably drawn to.
He adjusted the strap of his pack and began his descent. The path was treacherous, a winding trail that snaked down the side of the cliff, the rocks loose and slippery from the morning dew. Below him, the fog moved like a living thing, swirling in ghostly tendrils, obscuring the valley’s floor. He couldn’t see much beyond a few feet in front of him, but he could feel the weight of the place-the presence of something ancient, something waiting.
After hours of careful hiking, Rhodian reached the bottom. The valley was vast, an expanse of green and gray, with tall trees rising from the mist like sentinels. But it wasn’t the trees that caught his attention-it was the colossal stone figure that loomed in the distance.
At first, it was just a shape in the fog, an indistinct shadow. But as Rhodian drew closer, the details began to emerge. It was a head. A stone head, towering over 200 meters tall, its features chiseled with precision and grace. The face was stern, its eyes wide and unblinking, gazing eternally over the valley. It was the face of a giant, a figure of unimaginable size. The statue’s nose alone was larger than any building Rhodian had ever seen, and its lips, slightly parted, gave the impression that it was about to speak.
He stopped, awestruck by the sheer scale of it. This was no ordinary relic. This was the likeness of a being that had once existed, a monument to something that was now lost. Rhodian approached the base of the head, his footsteps silent on the moss-covered ground. The stone was weathered, cracks running through it like veins, but the craftsmanship was undeniable. Whoever had carved this, centuries ago, had done so with reverence, with a deep understanding of the figure they were immortalizing.
Was this a leader? A king? Perhaps a war hero, someone who had stood against the human encroachment? Rhodian ran his hand along the surface of the stone, feeling the cold, smooth texture beneath his fingertips. The giant’s eyes were blank, empty sockets that once might have been filled with something-perhaps jewels, or maybe they had simply been left hollow to represent the soul that had once filled this massive body.
He stood there for a long time, staring up at the face. There was something about it that felt alive, as though the stone was more than just a carving. It was as if the giant could still see, still feel, still judge. Rhodian shook the thought from his mind. It was just a statue, a relic of a forgotten time. But as he began to move away, something caught his eye-at the base of the head, where the statue met the ground, there was an inscription. The language was ancient, one that Rhodian didn’t recognize, but the symbols were unmistakably significant.
He knelt down, tracing the lines with his fingers. The letters were deep and jagged, carved into the stone with care, but they had eroded over time, making them difficult to decipher. He pulled a small journal from his pack and began to sketch the inscription, determined to study it later. But as he worked, he felt a sudden shift in the air. The wind, which had been calm, began to stir. The trees swayed, and the mist grew thicker, swirling around him in tighter, more aggressive patterns.
Rhodian stood, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He looked up at the giant’s face again. It was the same as before, the same expression, the same blank eyes. And yet, it felt different. The valley had grown colder, the light dimmer. He could hear something-a faint, low hum, like a deep vibration coming from within the earth itself.
For the first time, he felt a twinge of doubt. What if the stories were true? What if the giants weren’t extinct but simply... sleeping?
The wind howled, and Rhodian’s thoughts raced. He looked around, suddenly feeling very small in the presence of the stone titan. The valley seemed to close in around him, the mist thickening until it felt like he was standing in a cloud. He glanced at the inscription again, trying to make sense of it, but the symbols danced before his eyes, elusive and strange.
There was a sound-a deep, resonant crack, like the earth itself splitting open. Rhodian’s heart raced as he spun around, his eyes scanning the fog for any sign of movement. But there was nothing. Only the stone head, looming above him, silent and still.
And yet, the feeling persisted. The valley felt... alive.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, frozen in place, listening to the wind, to the strange hum that seemed to emanate from the very ground beneath him. Eventually, the fog began to lift, the wind died down, and the valley returned to its quiet, serene state. But something had changed. Rhodian could feel it in his bones, in the very air he breathed.
He turned to leave, his steps hurried now, his mind racing. As he made his way back up the path, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched-that the giant, or whatever remained of it, was still observing him, still judging him.
When he reached the top of the cliff, he looked back one last time. The stone head was barely visible through the mist, its expression unreadable, its gaze locked on the horizon.
Rhodian took a deep breath and turned away, the valley behind him silent once more.
But the question remained: Had the giants truly vanished? Or were they simply waiting, biding their time in the stone and the earth, waiting for the day when they would rise again?
I hope you're enjoying this one, your presence and support means a lot : - ) You can support in the following ways:
∞ Download my artwork: orlandoorsen.gumroad.com/
∞ Send a much appreciated Tip - ko-fi.com/orlandoorsen
∞ Like + Subscribe to my channel - www.youtube.com/@etherealodysseymusic?sub_confirmation=1
~ ⌾rlando ♡ ∞
A wonderous sense of movement generated by the calming tempo through an enchanting ambience created by your distinctive sounds. 🙏😊
Glad you’re enjoying it my friend
A very dense carpet of sound that envelops you and draws you into deep relaxation. The visual reminds me of the statues on Easter Island, very mystical and mysterious.🤍🪽🌈🐞👍🩵👍🐞🌈🪽🤍
Thank you my friend, so glad you appreciate my work : - ) be well
This is one of my most favorite ones!! I listen to this on repeat during my massage sessions.
Amazing ! Are you a massage therapist ?
I love the mystery and intrigue in this fantastic composition, such immersive piece along with the artistic visual, thank you for sharing your work!!!! 😊💚🕊👍
Thank you once again my friend
Wah..wah...our local slang (in urdu) when u appreciate utmost/extremely ones work...another imersive piece that takes you to serenity nd peace!...love u nd ur mastery my friend
This made me smile. Thank you for your kindness my friend
Изумительно, потрясающе!
Thank you my friend
The scenery really reminds me of the Scottish Highlands, amazing work! 🔥🔥
I hope to visit the highlands next year : - ) thanks for your support
Hello from Germany with best wishes for our music master, Ethereal Odyssey :)
Hello again! Thank you, from London : - )
It is fantastic, thank you! Masterful sounds, pulling you along into something deep. Love the mysteries!
Thank my friend, I’m glad you appreciate the detail that went into it
@@etherealodysseymusic very much so! Look forward to your amazing work.
This is a master creation, the best I ever heard, keep it up.
Wow, thank you : - )
Gazing with a piercing emptiness,
In silence you tread, the blades of grass they whisper,
A colossal relic of staggered and jagged conversations,
No peace, but a sense of waiting and anticipation,
The cracks of hardship and endurance,
Shifting energies edging the ancient texts, and symbols to “crack as shards of glass beneath the unknowing Earth."
🫶🏼🙏🏼
Magnificent sounds
Everything I've been looking for ❤
Thank you from Australia 🇦🇺 🙏
so glad you enjoyed, thank you for the support
Amazing! Please let me know when you will release FLAC or Hi-RES Audio tracks!🙏🙏😊😊
Thank you my friend, and I’m working on that, stay tuned !
@@etherealodysseymusic yes, I would love to see a bandcamp page so I can add my favorites to my collection!
🩵🩵🩵😌😌😌👌👌👌