“Bereft of the serenity that carried you this far, drums become louder from across the soundscape until dreadful shrieks bolt towards you from the mist. ”

Can I call myself subterranean? It seems a ludicrous question from someone born and raised (‘raised’ being loosely applied here) in the Warren—even for those who hold the job of mouser. I’ve rejected the idea that I’m some sort of cave dweller who sulks in the shadows until rays of light nearly blind me and I have to crawl back into my den. I darted around the Surface like a bird who just learned to fly; and I never went back down. But now I have, as I have a dual identity. If you asked me before the venture to the Deep Down, I would’ve scoffed, of course the Warren wasn’t my home. But, as a result of my many wondrous discoveries and exploits in this void, this underground existence has grown on me. But what do I care? It’s not like labels or epithets mean anything to me; I’m nothing but myself. And on the topic of the fruitlessness of labels, there exists music that defies any conventional classification.

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A bubbling brook and the warble of birds lightly caress the ears of the listener. Strings delicately make their way into the scene as they gently keep aloft the anthem the birds began. This relaxation then reveals itself to be the pillars of the second half of the song, bending one’s expectations in the process. Bereft of the serenity that carried you this far, drums become louder from across the soundscape until dreadful shrieks bolt towards you from the mist. You are then overtaken, savage sounds crawl over your entire body until complete development. Now a thrall to the music, you’re thrown through the maelstrom, completely at its mercy of which there is none until it has reached finality.

What I’ve described is “In Mirrors of Water” by Wolvserpent. Its intensity is matched only by its trickery. In life I’ve been apprehensive towards change. Any shift in life carries with it the possibility of negativity. But Wolvserpent represent a malleability that suits me, and possibly others in the Warren. Well, those worthy enough to find an appreciation for this specimen.