Saint-Akzena

Prologue: The Old Singer

That's what I love about songwriting. That you can write something about your own experiences and think it's completely specific to you, and then people can take away a completely different meaning for themselves. I really love that. I think you've been successful at writing a song when it has a larger life than yourself.

Idina Menzel

It was the starry sky of the night that I saw firstly before the rest of the firs that surrounded my view. Where I could see the clearing in the woods I was waking and getting up. With my coat and nothing in my pockets. Where a cigarette and a lighter would be welcome to the unknown situation I was in.

At least the full moon showed me with its light where to walk. As the pillars of this night sun showed among those of woods in this forest. Where none insect was singing of its nocturnal orchestra. Nor the wind that came from far away to whistle between the motionless firs. The death of silence kissed everything of it's nothing less.

Then, after an eternity, I heard something! I ran towards the sounds that were other than my steps. It was in another clearing, where an old native man was sitting with his guitar. Among the scarlet flowers and under the infinite of the starry night. Where he sang those lyrics;

♫ It was in the beginning, when the men of Europe began to sail towards our lands ♫

That the final battle between the warriors of the Turtle and the wendigos of Death was made

Among the fields of hers and the sky red of the life split to the ground.

The warriors of the Innu tribble, all led by Bear Teeth, took by attack the tribble of the Black souls

As for those of the Inuit's, on their horses from the south, charged towards the tipis made of human skins

The Black souls howled all, knowing that their life among many others was ending by the war

Which they had begun by taking the woman who held life from both tribbles that were once enemies

As for, by their united forces, they conjured the lands of what wasn't from this world

As they were all guided by the vision of the dragon from the stars which, the night brought them all

The Innu's smashed their howling's face by their tomahawk, painting the green life by their black death

As the Inuit's trampled the demons from these lands which took their flowing life among their entrails

There had so many horses and warriors, whom all battled those who came from the dark stars of the moon sky

Many died to the savagery of those from the gloomy interstellar

With their reddish life that mixed with the black of death that flowed like a river

Extending both of them on the large savannah, among a green hell of the vegetal life

As those who died found themselves among the saint land of the Akzena.

When the conjuration of inhumanity finished on these dead lands

The surviving Innu and Inuit's offered to their brothers and adversary of arms the afterlife.

As the conifer cones from the firs of the mountain were brought in here.

For thus being seeded everywhere which the lives of both beings were split.

And at this, they grow in all visible land the firs that is now this isolated world

Again, into the nature, the tribbles battle the Wendigos among the afterlife that is the dancing forest

Howling the war cry while scalping for the eternity the demons who continues this cycle

♫ As nothing truly ends with the Turtle and its self-existence… ♫

It was there that the man finished his song. As the trees that surrounded us began to dance of their branches by themselves. Despite the lack of wind which seems to make it all move and whistle its long and raucous breath.

Everyone turned towards me, the old man and his guitar. The forms of dark faces on the tree peels that forms themselves with their black mouths. The reddish faces of the warriors all proud to fight for all eternity. There are all there, among this clearing and all the rest of this forest. Where only these trees had grown on. Offering an eternal limbo towards those who are prisoners of the barbaric cycle of vengeance…