Doomwright

The Descending Fire — DOOMWRIGHT

THE DESCENDING FIRE — album cover, a vast hellish pit of ruined tiers descending into a glowing red abyss with tiny falling figures, in dark red oil
Brutal melodic black metal · a descent through the hells

The Descending Fire

A soul is torn from the body at death and cast down — hell after hell, each punishing a different sin — toward dissolution, the weighing of ash, and the turn of the wheel that begins it all again.

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The Argument

At death the soul is torn from the flesh and begins to fall — no light above, no ground below, only the speed of the plunge toward the lower doors.

A faceless judge weighs the ledger of a life and casts it down, and the descent begins in earnest: a black river choked with the drowned; forests of iron hooks for those who wounded others; a furnace mouth for tyrants who ruled by flame; a frozen waste where the cold devours even the name; a hall of cracked mirrors where the liar meets every rotting version of himself.

At the bottom of the burning stair, what remains is weighed — not gold, not name, only the ash of what the soul became. Then it is unmade, poured back into the dark, and the wheel turns: the same fall, the same hells, beginning again without a mark.

No heaven waits, and no final rest — only the wheel, and the descent begun again.

Ten movements

The Descending Fire, in full

Two harsh voices trade the fall — a deep guttural growl and a high black-metal rasp — carried on soaring harmonized leads. No clean voice ever answers; the melody does the grieving.

IThe Body Falls Awaywords
The thread is severed, breath undone The flesh released, the falling begun No light above, no ground below Only the speed of the plunge I go The doors of the dead swing wide for me The descending fire is all I see Cast me down through the burning dark Torn from the flesh, torn from the name Down through the hells without a mark Into the heart of the descending flame The world I knew dissolves to black There is no breath, there is no back The current takes what I have been And drags it down to answer sin Cast me down through the burning dark Torn from the flesh, torn from the name Down through the hells without a mark Into the heart of the descending flame
IIThe Faceless Judgewords
No face, no name, no word of grace A shape enthroned in the judgment place It reads the ledger of my years And measures out the coming years of tears The scales are cold, the scales are true They weigh the worst that I would do Judged and bound, sentenced and cast Every wound I dealt weighed against me now The first of many, the die is cast The lower doors are opening, and they know how The ledger closes, cold and vast Nothing forgiven, nothing passed The doors swing wide and cold and slow And name the hell where I will go Judged and bound, sentenced and cast Every wound I dealt weighed against me now The first of many, the die is cast The lower doors are opening, and they know how Judged and bound, cast below
IIIRiver of the Drownedwords
A river black without a shore Ten thousand drowned and ten thousand more Their hands reach up to pull me in The current runs on rivers of sin No boat will come, no shore is near The river feeds on mortal fear Wade the black, drown and rise Under the weight of the dead ones' eyes The river takes what the living prize And carries me down where the last light dies Their fate is mine, their flesh the same The water knows no god, no name Down where the light has never been The river drags the weight of sin Wade the black, drown and rise Under the weight of the dead ones' eyes The river takes what the living prize And carries me down where the last light dies
IVEmbers in the Voidinstrumental
Instrumental — the passage between hells, all soaring harmonized leads.
VHooks and Thornswords
Forests of iron, thorns of black Every wound I gave comes back Hung on the hooks my malice made Reaping the harvest of the blade The flesh restores to be retorn Into this agony reborn Torn and hung, flayed and torn No death to end, no coming morn What I have done is done to me On the hooks of memory The hooks remember, the thorns run through The debt of pain I thought was through Carved into me, on and on Every cruelty I have done Torn and hung, flayed and torn No death to end, no coming morn What I have done is done to me On the hooks of memory
VIThe Furnace Mouthwords
A mouth of furnace, wide and red That swallows down the cruel dead The tyrants, burners, those who reigned By fire ruled, in fire chained The crown I wore is molten now The furnace keeps the ancient vow Burn and burn, turn and burn Everything I took, I earn No throne, no name, no mercy given Only the debt of what was driven The flames remember every sin And melt the tyrant's armor thin No power left, no reign to claim Only the endless, hungry flame Burn and burn, turn and burn Everything I took, I earn No throne, no name, no mercy given Only the debt of what was driven Burn and burn, to ash I turn
VIIWhere the Cold Devourswords
A silence where the fire dies A frozen waste of glassy skies The cold devours the very name And nothing here recalls the flame The cold is patient, the cold is vast It takes the first and takes the last Frozen, frozen, still and slow Into the white where none can go The cold that eats the self away The endless night without a day No warmth remains, no memory kept The frozen dead where the frozen wept The white expands, the white consumes And buries all the ancient tombs Frozen, frozen, still and slow Into the white where none can go The cold that eats the self away The endless night without a day
VIIIThe Hall of Mirrors and Wormswords
A hall of glass where every face Is mine, dissolving, out of place The lies I wore now wear my skin And every mirror shows the sin Every mask I ever made Peels away and starts to fade Rot and see, rot and know The worm becomes the face I show The truth I buried, now unearthed Crawls from the grave of my own worth The worms that feed were once my words The buried truth at last unearthed No mask remains, no false disguise Only the rot behind the eyes Rot and see, rot and know The worm becomes the face I show The truth I buried, now unearthed Crawls from the grave of my own worth
IXThe Weighing of Ashwords
At the bottom of the burning stair What's left of me is weighed with care Not gold, not name, not what I owned Only the ash of what I've grown The scales know neither prayer nor plea They measure only what I'd be Weighed and weighed, weighed again Ash of glory, ash of men And in the balance, cold and true The hells decide what I go through No god to beg, no debt to clear Only the ash that brought me here The fire of all I was and did Reduced to what the scales forbid Weighed and weighed, weighed again Ash of glory, ash of men And in the balance, cold and true The hells decide what I go through
XTurn of the Wheelwords
Unmade, unnamed, undone at last The self dissolves, the debt is passed No heaven waits, no final rest Only the wheel, its cold behest Poured back into the waiting dark To start again without a mark Turn the wheel, turn again Round and round through fire and pain Forgetting all, to fall once more Through every hell I've walked before The wheel does not know rest or end It only turns and turns again The same descent, the same long fall The same hells waiting for us all Turn the wheel, turn again Round and round through fire and pain Forgetting all, to fall once more Through every hell I've walked before Turn the wheel… and begin again
The Illuminations

Ten plates from the descent

Two figures falling through a vast chasm between ruined structures, dark red oil painting
Torn from the flesh, the falling begun.I · The Body Falls Away
A colossal faceless enthroned figure with a small soul suspended before it in a ruined hall
A shape enthroned in the judgment place.II · The Faceless Judge
A lone figure wading through a black flood as countless hands reach up from the water, a ruined gothic city beyond
Ten thousand drowned, and ten thousand more.III · River of the Drowned
A lone skeletal soul floating in a vast dark void beside a towering gothic gate, red embers drifting
The passage between hells.IV · Embers in the Void
A red hellscape of giant iron hooks, thorns and chains with figures hung upon them
Hung on the hooks my malice made.V · Hooks and Thorns
A glowing furnace gate in a vast dark citadel with a procession of wraith figures walking into the red fire
A mouth of furnace, wide and red.VI · The Furnace Mouth
A frozen grey wasteland of icy ruins and skeletons with an emaciated figure crawling through the frost
The cold devours the very name.VII · Where the Cold Devours
A hall of cracked tall mirrors reflecting rotting figures, pale worms coiling across the wet floor
Every mirror shows the sin.VIII · The Hall of Mirrors and Worms
A colossal balance scale weighing a heap against a mass of bodies, a soul ascending the steps toward it
Weighed and weighed, weighed again.IX · The Weighing of Ash
A giant spoked wheel hung with bound figures rising into a red sky above a ruined hall, a lone soul below
Turn the wheel, and begin again.X · Turn of the Wheel