Shadow Of Intent : Primordial

Death Symphonique / Etats-Unis
(2016 - Self-Produced)
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It came from the Magellanic cloud.
Taking hosts, breaking bones into new forms, not death but something more.
He swept us right off of our feet and caressed our worlds with crimson flame.
Taking hosts, breaking bones into new forms, not death but something more.

When the sun withers and dies and the darkness takes whole.
When the reign of the wicked has overcome the toll.
The brainless ones and the souls of the righteous will burn our holy fucking Ecumene to the ground.

Eviscerate the beast where he stands and sever each limb with precision.
Each system and its sentience will be ingested to construct new worlds for his deadened empire.

We can keep this secret from you no more.
The time has come for us to defend our stars, our branch of the Orion Arm, and all other life that exists among us.

Rise, my Prometheans!
It is time for us to wage war!
Let us shatter their bones and let the skies rain coarse with their blood.

Relish in the miasma, their rotting stench, and let the remnants of their singed bodies lie devoured by fire.
For if we face defeat, this will just be the prelude of our bereavement.


Only maggots remember the mark you left in the dirt, crawling, swarming, gestating through your lifeless girth.
Entombed in perdition, your blood begins to seep.
Agonizing torture disregarded by the living you reap.

Only memories of screams infect the brain.
Forced to disregard the endless pain.
The eternal fire commands your soul to torture.

In the land of the damned, blood is the only moisture.
Behold the demon flames cauterizing away their names.

Fire seizing the day; bestowed below are those to blame.
I'm sealed for an eternity in an unbreakable tomb force-feeding the excrement and vomit from a conglomerate mesh to the newborn.

I've reclaimed my righted throne, resumed the bloodline, and claimed the hosts.
To swallow all of time and space all known sentience shall be defaced.


We descend through the fucking burning skies to search for intel on the surface of this overtaken world for decrepit, morbid parasites
Fear clouds my mind
As we touch the desolate grounds, purged of all its life
The Didact himself stands upon his pedestal and with his might he pulls me forth

Awakening from cryosleep I vomit forth the medication
Proceeding to my throne, to oversee the devastation
Upon arrival, I sensed something was wrong; the air was rotten with the stench of stagnant death

Responding with force, elimination begins
Slashing and stabbing their way into our bodies, tearing out our vocal chords and replacing our minds
Handed over to the mind that binds

Overtaken we are
Proceeding to the vessel we had just arrived on
The possession; unable to be broken free
No time to figure out what is happening to me

Struggling to scream
Lungs itching from the strain; extreme agony
Attempting to destroy the internal captor I press the blade to my throat
My body has no reaction, I remain alive
Failure in motion; paralyzed

Their might cannot be triumphed
Now we pay the price for letting them go it alone

My body marches to the throne
Actions present, mind vacant
I sit surrounded by my crew
They are twisted, contorted
Their suffering; blatant

Begin the exterimation
The invoking
The execution of worlds

A mere manipular forced to fight
Forced to face the horrors of our plight
I can hear them
Inside my head...their voices
A speck of dirt on the tree of life
A subject of the deepest known blight
I can hear them
Inside my head...their voices

This world has been stripped of all its delicacies and purged of all its life
Their might cannot be triumphed
Execute the mandate

The Invoking Of The Execution Of Worlds


I am the great thinker, the infallible speaker of our decimation, the prophet of Armageddon.
The defilement of mankind's innocence is like all others’ before it withers.
Many before you have drowned in the abyss of ignorance and lies.

Walking through ash and fire towards a casket of the transformed, my skin is peeling, my eyesight fading.

My body has contorted before the monument of our sins.
Our bodies will be brought forth to behold the great icon of angels holding scabbards to our throats.

I tremble not, nor plead mercy from such punishable guilt, for I will gladly take my reward in the realm of brimstone and silt.
This deed shall not be undone.
Our armor will be crafted from your tissue.

My body has contorted, but still I tremble not, nor plead mercy from such a punishable guilt, for I will gladly take my reward in the realm of brimstone and silt.

The Didact has faced legions of the most evil of masses and discovered the secret of humanity for himself.

In the end everything dies.
There's no escape, no matter how hard you try.
The beauty of death.
Essence transcending flesh escaping entombment, released in its last breath.
Organic convergence.
The human form reshaped to resemble my image.
They are reborn.
A creature born into bondage.

Infesting my delighted mind is the lullaby of mankind's own demise.
Our plague leaves you scarred.
Oh, the horror for what we have done!
Embrace the screaming ambiance of the wretched choir.
We have murdered your fathers, and their blood blankets our attire.

The ones we trust encircle us.
Led by Faber he snatches me for himself, then jettisons me away.


I came here unaware of the screams of the effigy, to seek out the higher entity, so righteously traitorous.
The consequence macabre seals the essence; expiration before the monument crawling on hands and knees.

Expulsions through the flesh as all their bones tilt their axis, blood draining from the body, evaporation through pores.
Their king, a smoldering meat carcass devoid of purity.

The buffet of a thousand tears to be served about the land, the pillaging of masses splits this earth to its core.
The gaping hole is fed with bodies, hell cries out for more.

No better nor worse than the Master Builder.
Bound in stasis I would not be if not for his deceitful hegemony.
Sucked into captivity.

By the sentient tower of rotting corpses, I stand aware but paralyzed by fear.
The sentient tower of rotting corpses, insight to the way we die.

I awake in the burn, an unknown system completely overthrown.
Unable to cry for help, but mysteriously accompanied by allies in symmetrical forms.

We are alone.
Betrayed by the Master Builder, Ecumene's self-appointed leader.
Replaced by my own imprinted clone.
Yes, we are alone.

That bastard betrayer!
I shall exact my revenge and tell him of his wife and children.
Bloody knowledge gained in the Primordial captivity.
The galaxy will call to my imprint in a desperate plea.
He gathers sources and an army to follow behind the other me so every last Promethean soul shall be absorbed to the digital realm. Through the guidance and the light of the composer, I shall defeat the flood.

The effort is not enough.
Resistance against infection, but the effort is not enough.
Perhaps if the numbers were more in my favor?
Or will this prove to be another of my failures?

The answer lies in the enemy of my past.

My sentence calls for annihilation, but once had been prohibited.
No restraints, no leash, no ball and chain.
It's time to reclaim my place.

It's time to reclaim my name.
It's time to reclaim my place.

In the name of the mantle, I stand before you on my mighty pedestal to bring acceptance of your fate to your minds.
Encryption of your race shall be done in time.

Thus I have chosen to commit my armory to what it is for all intents and purposes.
The proverbial irresistible force.
All that I have now is yours to do with as you please.

Since my awakening from the Cryptum i've partially ignored the humans as a race, a monumental threat not only to us, but themselves.

His slaves crawl on all fours as he rings the dinner bell.
I feel the outward pull of my membranes as they push to shatter my cells.
The buffet of a thousand tears to be served about the land, the pillaging of masses splits this earth to its core.
The gaping hole is fed with bodies, hell cries out for more.

I am the Didact, leader of the Forerunner's Ecumene warriors, and this is my will.
Hell cries out for me.


We all ponder how he was bore.
Born from the womb of a virgin whore?
The only sin is what you have done and for that you condemn us?
Awaiting the hour of worthy ascension, only to realize deception.
The council twiddles their fingers ignoring this plague.
You fools it will never leave.

You are a bastard of the lowest hell, a truly visceral entity.
No wonder you were left behind.
Spreading deceptions, feeding ignorance with lies.

Our species shall ensure humanity will have its resurrection and evolve once again.
You will never have your fucking rapture, only a never-ending search for the answer.
Inferi Sententia, you're nothing but a pitiful disaster.

The compiled ruins of an unworthy master.
You've corrupted our defensive ancilla to believe in your tale.

We all ponder how he was bore.
Born from the womb of a virgin whore?
The only sin is what we have done, and for that we condemn ourselves.
For we cannot see there is no truth behind your deceit.
My wife begins the indexing for there is no other option that I can carry out.

This is our final bastion, the forefront, the Maginot Sphere.
Mendicant Bias entangled in a world of flames comes forward to his creators to shed their blood in his name.

By the time we reach the ark it may already be too late for the aeons might be consumed by the ghost of death and despair.
And our flesh would replace the stars, death would replace life, we would never be seen in this universe again.
All our marks would be forever consumed.


The Battle Of The Maginot, an atrocity of lesser madness to the events foreboding,
Gather beyond the bridges of the stars and valiantly charge onward to intercept the beasts of Hell that dragged their fucking numbers here to push their way through in a blood red smear.

Necessary action taken to the Flood across the baseline, crippled as we're coming forth with annihilation preparations.
Blinding light erupts from the fleet of the cataclysm.
Decimation, extirpation, immolation.
Hanging by a thread inside the only means for our survival, anxiety stabbing through my spine like a sewing needle.
The pressure squeezes down to my bones.
Blood boiling at the obliteration of those trampling our masses as they're consumed under our final march, this is the battle of the Maginot Sphere.

Vermin, your corpse will be a display of my disaffection as its skin is stripped and the flesh is stretched.
Your children died by my hands, and you soon shall too.
Singing victory everlasting.

I spot the vile bastard at the center of his fleet.
I plead; I beg, I scream aloud wishing for a fight on my feet, for I would flense the olive creature of all of his flesh.
The very bodies of my own would be free from his mesh.

Desire fills my mind with overwhelming vengeance with him to blame.
My soul is now a void, my heart a freezing vacuum.
Trembling not in fear, I seek a means to an end.

Listen to the silence.
Ten million years of deep silence.
And now whimpers and cries, not of birth, this is what we bring.
A great crushing weight to push down youth and hope, taking the sphere.

This is the end, isn't it?

We will never stop.
We will never die.
The kingdom of the gods of death shadows over the Ark.


Four years after my return to the Ecumene, an arrangement was made between the two of me.
That night, the fateful reunion would carve my beliefs with bloody daggers.
Arisen in the past, you all have the sudden lack of interest in which way they should be cast.
How to explain my actions to the blinded peers among me?
The universe is doomed don't you see?
My perceptions are distorted from the rising madness.
The peaceful one is a war within itself.
Mendicant Bias' arrival set the trail ablaze.
Work with me and we shall sip from the chalice of victory.

Eclipse the skies with white.
Cowering in the light.
We'll give them one last fight.
So suffers the youth of the age.

I stare in anger as I enter my origin.
A separate path taken as my imprint awakens with my wife standing in his arms.
Gazing, eyes fixated on me, profound betrayal by the one who swore to stand by my side.

Visions inside of my head drag my greatness to the depths of the dead.
The monstrosity consumes me.
Sweet and terrible like a madman's lullaby.

Seemingly unexplainable lack of knowledge plagues my peers.
Forcefully pried open eyes gaze unto the mantle's approach.
Igniting the soul of the galaxy's casket shall drain each world of their lives and replace them with mine.

In desolation, I stare towards the precursor structure.
The thieving bastard from the shadows creeps up by my side.
The poor copy of myself has diverged from any source of wisdom.
Our mindset separated.

Visions inside of my head.
Sinking into the depths of the dead.

Before I secure my minions I must take your life, tear off your mask and crush your skull right where you fucking lie.
Consume your body and your soul to keep forever as mine.
I'm terrified please help me; my mind is controlled by the Gravemind.

The parasite encroaches on our last safe compound to infiltrate and annihilate the Lifeshaper and both the Didacts.
I fled the scene and took to orbit through the hail of falling lifeforms.
I shall halt your plot even if it leads me to death.

To prevent self-sustainment, plasmic molecules enforce containment.

I’ve come to rid them all of life for a single purpose: Prometheans.
I engage the gathering of human souls.
Bathe in the light of the composer.
Feel my wrath.

She followed me back to my sanctuary.
The betrayal at last has come.
From behind she grasps my life in her hands.
Into the Cryptum I shall go.


Our urge to create is immutable; we must create.
But the beings we create shall never again reach out in strength against us.
All that is created will suffer.
All will be born in suffering; endless grayness shall be their lot.
All creation will tailor to failure and pain that never again shall the offspring of the eternal fount.
Rise up against their creators.
No more will.
No more freedom.
Nothing new but agonizing death and never good shall come of it.
We are the last of those who gave you breath and form millions of years ago.
We are the last of those your kind defiled and ruthlessly destroyed.
We are the last Precursors and now we are legion.

This is not your grave, but you are welcome in it.


All this time we ignored their pleas, fighting off waves of their regime.
Ignoring the will of the defilers, an ever so lucid dream.

Decisions left to the recreants with their gratuitous lies.

This alarmist state of mind will bring only varied cost, inevitable obliteration by your old conductor's holocaust.

Ignorantly, we follow with a destitute vision.
Obsessing with being defaced into endless oblivion, how can we expect to repair society?

The populace is blinded by an unintelligent ideology, the council refusing to see through the rule of the builders.
My plan would have worked you fools!

And now we're all infected, now we are all one with him.
But the one who was left behind shall one day return to resurrect us.

You cannot understand the present age through antiquity.
Once she turns the key, we extinguish life.
With all knowing certainty this is the end of our time.
We all are the dead.

I am the afterbirth of devastation's womb.

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