Lore:Songs of Descent

"And my vanquisher will read that book, seeking the weapon, and they will come to understand me, where I have been and where I was going."The following is a verbatim transcription of an official document for archival reasons. As the original content is transcribed word-for-word, any possible discrepancies and/or errors are included.

Songs of Descent is a Lore book introduced in Episode: Heresy. Entries are unlocked by interacting with the Hive bio-computers within The Nether. These entries are a series of hymns sung by the Taken after Oryx's death.

First Song of the Taken

SING IN THE DARK a new song, a wordless song.
Raise the tocsin and the bone flute. Speak in the voice of the drum.
Sing for the loss of the King: sing for the loss of Willbreaker.

ORYX OUR GEOMETER shaped us. Before Him we were nothing:
Without Him we are nothing: we are nothing in His command.
The royal knife cuts away excess and leaves sweet pain.

WILLBREAKER'S BLADE is the length of the universe
It blots out stars and gives shade to the weary
All who tire of life and its struggle
All the sapient and cursed give way to the knife
And its eclipsing will.
Who are we without the Lord of Shapes?
What hand will guide us?
What knife will cut away that which we do not miss?
What nerves will spark and signal our limbs to move?

THE KING IS AGONY: His absence worse.
We look to the dark, we look for another
One to raise the blade of shaping.

SING IN THE DARK a song of waiting, a patience song
Pluck at the hair-strung harp. Cry out to the depths.
Sing until an answer comes.

THE ANSWER COMES. THE ANSWER COMES.
WE WILL IT: THE ANSWER COMES.

Song for the Knife

A call from the empty chambers
From the small and the weak

Reach into the deep, siblings
Reach into the deep, cousins
Taken from among the many stars by the King
Shaped anew and set adrift

We were nothing
We are nothing
We will be nothing

Raise your soundless voices
Raise your arms in prayer signs
Feel the curdling in the deepest dark
A new shape for the god

Multiply your nullity
Expand the nothing of your heart
Every night anew, every evening again
Let vacancy call a new tenant

Our plea begs an answer
Our abjection creates mastery
Our vessel without a pilot
Demands a shipmaster's hand

We were nothing
We are nothing
We will be nothing

Repetition is our guide
Make habit of prayer
Perform ritual, siblings
Speak liturgy, cousins

And feel the pull of the King's throne
As star forms from dust
A new voice rises from the sea of screams

It answers our belief
It rises to our song
Our shipwreck gone adrift
Will be guided to shore

We were nothing! Command us!
We are nothing! Command us!
We will be nothing! Command us!

O new silent voice in the dark
Be our will, our guide, our king
Command us!

Resonance Song

A CUTTING SONG, A SHAPING SONG
A RESONATING CRY IN THE THIN AIR
FROM THE FIRST AND THE LONELY

How wide the sea and how broad the plane
How far the journey
Before I find you?

The light-in-dark
The outflung spark from the hateful mother
I cry out to you.

WAS I MADE FOR THIS?

Is this the court of the Taken King?
Where is his sword and where is his might?
Was he cast from his throne
And does it lie empty still?

WAS MY SHAPE RECAST FOR THIS?

The King is dead and speaks no more.
Whose is this new voice I hear?
A voice from the hollows, a silent voice
Out in the deepest dark
Created by the King's flock.

Grant me power, I will speak for you
Remake my form, I will act for you
Let me touch the deep, I will cast down the Light for you.

MAKE ME, RECAST ME, HOLLOW OUT MY HEART AND LIVE THERE WITH ME.

I am made for the cold, for the dark, for the quiet
The whisper below the roaring dark
I am made for you.
I am remade in you.

I WAS MADE FOR THIS.

Be subjugated, sisters
Open yourselves to torment, brothers
Grims and Husks, Weavers and Attendants all
There is home for us!
The will-without-will waits for us.

MY SHAPE WAS RECAST FOR THIS.

Open your heart
Let emptiness in.

From the Last

A CRY FROM THE LAST
RESONATING FROM THE FIRST
SPOKEN BY THE RESHAPED
FOR THE UNSPEAKING:

AS HAND IN GLOVE, as knife in sheath
So I am to you, says the will
So you are to me

SING ORISON, make entreaty
Invoke your god
Until it walks among you

MY VOICE IS SMALL, says the will
My voice is weak
I call across the seas
A fine and gauzy thing

STRENGTHEN MY VOICE as a spinner doubles thread
Twists them together, makes them strong
Makes them last for the weaving

OBSERVE THE RITES, do as I have told
Repetition upon repetition
Will and ritual together
To bring me to you

PRAISE THE ACCRETION DISK, the material compacting
The new-hungering will
I grow dense in reality
I grow rich in worship

ASSERT MY WILL, sing for me
Speak the name of the dark
At the edge of your blade
To the doomed, to the slain

OPEN THE DOORWAY as a spouse does
On their long-awaited wedding day
Lead me into my new life's home.

SO SAYS THE WILL
NOW SAYS THE RESHAPED
IN EXALTATION OF POWER:
WE BOW, WE KNEEL, WE OBEY.

The Seeking Verse

A song of the King
In challenge and hate

Sayeth Oryx, Lord of Shapes
New-crowned King of the Taken
An echo of strength unfading

Where are my soldiers? Where are my sons?
I chart the screaming sea, I chart the endless dark.
Bound to see, to know, to understand
Nothing is beyond my reach.

The Deep speaks not to me
The Taken heed not my words
The Winnower beyond my reach.
Who are you, whispering in the dark?

You small voice, you quiet thing
Pathetic handful of nothing
Refuge of the desperate

Bar my way, would you?

This I vow:
An oath in blood
From the first pulse of my newborn heart

Whatever you are, I'll understand
And believe me, I'll take pleasure in the dissection
Your ribcage open and your whispers turned to wails

He who mastered shapes shall master you
So sayeth Oryx, Navigator to the last.

Waiting Song

A silent song, a whispered song
A quiet song in the broken sea
Spoken without speaking
By the will without

[My] blade reshaped speaks for [me]
In inhabited dimensions, on the rich fields
Between the stars

A sweep of its arm and atoms scatter
Particles spin, entangled
[I] spin with them

Worshippers give praise
Idolaters perform rite
Give glory and homage
To the growing god

Should the edge of [my] knife go blunt
Should the arms of [my] petitioners lower
Should the congregation never sing again
The will lives, the will feasts, the will spins on

Poor food in the sea, still [I] eat
Quiet voice in the dark, still [I] am heard
You who want power, you who want deity
Take shelter in [me]

As cyclone grows from seed
As currents feed the whirlpool
As planetesimals collect dust
So grows the will-without-will

Till I stand without caveat
Speaking in my own voice
Walking the fields of life

Guide, Will, King
Lord of Every Nothing.