Álbum uno
Caitlyn
Un arco disciplinado sobre sostener la línea, pagar el costo y sobrevivir al bosque, al reino y a quienes preferirían obediencia.
Estas pistas acompañan Caitlyn of Runda y convierten la historia en fragmentos líricos, juramentos y escenas de consecuencia.
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Bandas sonoras de Krovaris
Las bandas sonoras no reemplazan los libros. Profundizan la atmósfera oscura, extienden tu tiempo en el mundo y refuerzan la identidad emocional de Krovaris.
Exla
A song about surviving brutality without being restored to what was lost. Exla loses part of herself, but what remains grows sterner, clearer, and closer to the sacred. The cost is higher, the path harsher, but the truth is purer.
Exla
A song about surviving brutality without being restored to what was lost. Exla loses part of herself, but what remains grows sterner, clearer, and closer to the sacred. The cost is higher, the path harsher, but the truth is purer.
I spoke when silence was required
I chose the moment, not the rule
They called it rupture, called it heresy
I called it acting while they froze
They didn’t bind me in the square
No fire, no crowd to bear my shame
They reached inside my memory
And broke it carefully, by name
They left the body breathing still
A mind with corridors erased
Doors that open into nothing
A will restrained, but not replaced
The forest took what they discarded
Roots where memory used to be
Every time it moves through me
It takes a piece and leaves the key
It hurts to carry borrowed balance
It hurts to serve what does not plead
I bleed in bark and ancient hours
A living wound they choose to need
I walk the edge of Runda’s shadow
Where trees remember older wars
They do not bless. They do not comfort
They answer hunger with a law
The sisters of Hillia spoke of order
Drank too deep from what was sealed
They named it duty, named it wisdom
I felt the ground scar over the wound
They feared a woman with intention
Unbound by doctrine or decree
So they made absence of my past
And called that mercy done to me
The forest took what they discarded
Roots where memory used to be
Each time it speaks its will through me
Another fragment breaks in me
They broke my past to render silence
To make me harmless, still, and clean
Now something older fills the hollow
And takes its payment in between
I remember fire without faces
I remember hands that chose control
They could not kill what questioned order
So they dismantled me instead, whole
Exiled, not absolved nor ended
Not dead enough to leave the field
A vessel walking broken borders
Between what must and should not yield
The forest does not call me chosen
It calls me when the balance fails
I answer with what still remains
And pay in blood and broken trails
I do not ask to be restored
I do not ask to be set free
I stand where Krovaris keeps bleeding
And let the roots decide through me
Caitlyn
A song about Caitlyn’s bond with the forest as a living law: older than names, harsher than mercy, and impossible to fake. Raised in that intimacy, she learns to stand where others break, to answer the world with loyalty instead of comfort, and to trust a balance that never promises to save her. Human brutality sharpens the contrast, and every choice begins to cost more.
Caitlyn
A song about Caitlyn’s bond with the forest as a living law: older than names, harsher than mercy, and impossible to fake. Raised in that intimacy, she learns to stand where others break, to answer the world with loyalty instead of comfort, and to trust a balance that never promises to save her. Human brutality sharpens the contrast, and every choice begins to cost more.
I learned the paths before the names
Mud, bark, wind, and breath
The forest never promised mercy
Only balance paid in steps
I stand where lines are drawn in dirt
Not for crowns, not for praise
I stand because the line must hold
And someone has to stay
I listen to the ground
Before the noise arrives
When quiet tightens first
I already know the price
I hold the line
I do not bend
No orders shouted through the trees
No banners in the wind
Loyalty is not a word
It’s movement, breath, and skin
They ask me where my faith resides
If oath or steel or tree
I answer with the simplest truth
It lives with those with me
The forest doesn’t shield my hands
It doesn’t call me right
It only keeps the tally true
And asks me for the same
I hold the line
I do not bend
I’ve buried friends beneath the leaves
I’ve watched good ground turn red
The forest keeps the measure clean
It counts the living and the dead
It doesn’t crown. It doesn’t save
It answers cost with cost
I stay because the ground still holds
What others chose to drop
Each arrow counts
I stay
The ground waits
I loose
Bartos
A song about Bartos as a man of direct honor, where duty is not a reward but a burden he chooses to carry. Azhgaron does not answer to empty righteousness, only to true surrender of self, and Bartos keeps moving when others break or retreat. He is not invincible; his strength comes from refusing to abandon the just, even when the cost cuts deep and the body is already failing.
Bartos
A song about Bartos as a man of direct honor, where duty is not a reward but a burden he chooses to carry. Azhgaron does not answer to empty righteousness, only to true surrender of self, and Bartos keeps moving when others break or retreat. He is not invincible; his strength comes from refusing to abandon the just, even when the cost cuts deep and the body is already failing.
I learned to stand behind a shield
Before I learned to pray
Steel first, breath next
That’s how you stay
The world does not reward the just
It only tests the strong
So I carry what must be done
When right and wrong are gone
I don’t ask if I will fall
I ask how long I stand
Azhgaron hears no pleading
Only what my hands command
I carry what they won’t
That is the oath
I’ve stepped between the weak and fire
With nothing left to prove
I’ve watched the cost outlive the cause
And still I choose to move
My shield is scarred, my stance is fixed
My breath is cut and thin
But duty does not loosen grip
When doubt moves in
Faith is not a spoken vow
It’s weight you never drop
I don’t fight for what I’m owed
I fight so others stop
I carry what they won’t
That is the oath
They sing of honor after death
I deal in broken ground
No witness but the fallen men
No glory left to count
If this is all the good I do
Then let it end right here
Standing while the world gives way
So others disappear
I carry what they won’t
That is the oath
Tisha
The drone represents the discomfort she has learned to live with. The heartbeat never shifts, no matter what. The echo lives in her mind, and the second voice belongs to the masks.
Tisha
The drone represents the discomfort she has learned to live with. The heartbeat never shifts, no matter what. The echo lives in her mind, and the second voice belongs to the masks.
They killed my parents in the open
And walked away like nothing moved
I learned what screams are worth in alleys
I learned what silence makes you prove
They measured me in easy places
Too small to matter, safe to miss
So I became the space between them
The overlooked, the practiced twist
I don’t chase comfort. I chase patterns
A glance, a pause, a name misplaced
I keep my face where it belongs
And let the fools reveal their waste
Information is coin
I don’t spend it twice
I fight with daggers when it’s needed
But thinking cuts before the steel
A door left cracked. A guard too kind
A lie that almost sounds too real
I don’t attach. I don’t confess
I don’t forgive to feel okay
I take the facts. I keep the edge
I live to make it to next day
They want a story, want a wound
They want a girl who breaks and cries
I give them calm. I give them fine
And keep the hunger in my eyes
Information is coin
I don’t spend it twice
In Krovaris, truth is priced in blood
And loyalty is rented out
So I stay small. I stay unseen
I learn what power whispers about
No hymns for me. No clean escape
Just routes, and names, and ways inside
I do what works. I take what lasts
And let the rest of me divide
Information is coin
I don’t spend it twice
A step
A shadow
Gone
Archer’s Guild
A trust-and-surveillance song about discipline, protection, and the rot hiding inside a clean shot.
Archer’s Guild
A trust-and-surveillance song about discipline, protection, and the rot hiding inside a clean shot.
At dawn we count the targets
At dusk we count the bolts
Hands steady, eyes unshaken
Clean breath, clean release, clean faults
We guard the roads for Krovaris
We keep the hunters back
We teach the young to hit the mark
And never lose the track
But someone watches from within
A smile that doesn’t reach
A ledger balanced far too well
A lesson not to teach
Clean shot. Clean breath
Trust costs
Drasar calls it discipline
He calls it staying sharp
He knows the rot can wear a face
And speak in practiced parts
So we keep ranks and keep our silence
We train until it aches
And when the arrows fly too straight
We ask what hand it takes
A whisper in the record room
A seal that breaks too clean
The forest hears the smallest step
And keeps what it has seen
Clean shot. Clean breath
Trust costs
An arrow doesn’t choose its target
It only serves the draw
A guild can call itself protection
And still become a claw
So we aim true. We speak less
We watch each other’s hands
Because a clean line on a map
Can hide a knife in sand
Clean shot. Clean breath
Trust costs
String tight
Eyes up
Release
Cavalry Keep
A mounted oath-song about carrying duty even when the crown itself is wrong.
Cavalry Keep
A mounted oath-song about carrying duty even when the crown itself is wrong.
We ride at first light, armor closed
Names swallowed by the helms
The oath was sworn to crown and land
Not to the way it fell
We lift the fallen from the road
We share the last of bread
Then ride again when orders come
Where better men have bled
Azhgaron teaches discipline
To stand when lines collapse
He never said the world was just
He said to hold the path
We ride by oath, not crown
Honor holds, even when it fails
The hooves keep time like hammered iron
A pulse that will not ask
We guard the weak, we keep the peace
And wear the cost as mask
A tyrant wears a lawful seal
A law can still be wrong
We do not choose the shape of truth
We choose to ride along
Steel remembers every fall
The saddle every mile
If honor breaks beneath the load
It breaks without a smile
We ride by oath, not crown
Honor holds, even when it fails
If duty feeds a broken throne
Then duty shares the blame
We know the weight. We take it still
And carry on in name
There is no hymn for this return
No end that sets us free
Only the road, the sound of hooves
And what we choose to be
We ride by oath
Gallop fades
Armor breathes
Onward
Hillia’s Temple
A doctrine song about ordered cruelty, sanctified control, and the price of purity.
Hillia’s Temple
A doctrine song about ordered cruelty, sanctified control, and the price of purity.
We keep the light contained
We name the lines, we seal the blood
All things must know their place
Order is mercy, order is peace
So we are taught to believe
The gift was given, not to all
Only to those who carry the seal
Question is fracture
Doubt is decay
What must be taken
Was never yours to weigh
By blood, by right
By what was chosen
We guard the gift
We bear the burden
We cleanse the past to save the future
We cut to keep it pure
What breaks is weak, what bleeds is flawed
What endures is ours
Memory bends
If truth requires
Sacrifice
By blood, by right
By what was chosen
We guard the gift
We bear the burden
If the land screams, it is necessary
If minds break, it is clean
The cost is high, but order stands
And order must be seen
By blood, by right
We remain
Remain
The War
An exhausted battlefield song about endurance, collapse, and the cost of holding the line.
The War
An exhausted battlefield song about endurance, collapse, and the cost of holding the line.
The field breathes wrong
Mud takes weight
Steel finds bone
Arrows fall before the scream
Horses break the ground apart
Shields shatter under names
That won’t be spoken when this ends
Hold
Hold
Don’t think
Blood in the mud
Steel won’t stop
Hold the line
Hands numb, arms burning
Orders lost in noise
Friends fall where they stand
No time to close their eyes
Hold
Hold
Still stand
Blood in the mud
Steel won’t stop
Hold the line
Farms burn past the ridge
Children run with nowhere left
Victory tastes like iron
And screams don’t care who’s right
Blood in the mud
Steel won’t stop
Hold the line
Krovaris stands
But it bleeds