The first words ask for hearing, and the low pulse is already steady underneath them.

Here the voice turns to Valföðr, asking to tell the old stories, while the backing stays dark and measured.

Now it moves back before the made world: Ymir, no sea, no earth yet, all carried by the same tread.

The sun-darkening section starts here, but the music doesn't break apart; it keeps the collapse inside order.

The scale tightens from the cosmos into kin: brothers fighting, bonds spoiled, Yggdrasil trembling under the voice.

Garmr enters by name here, howling at the threshold, and the broken-fetter image pushes the song toward Ragnarök.

The return is brighter in the words: green earth rising from the sea, waterfalls, an eagle overhead. The old weight is still there.

The final image is Gimlé, the hall brighter than the sun, and this is where the grip slowly starts to loosen.