Blood Flowing - The Hermit (2025)

In the bleak sanctum where shadow and silence intertwine, “The Hermit” stands as a solitary beacon of mournful beauty, a bleak opus carved from the deepest fissures of the soul. This second voyage is not a mere collection of songs but a seamless immersion into a world where isolation, anguish, and spectral terror bleed into one another, coalescing into a suffocating atmosphere of profound despair and haunting introspection.

Here, depressive and atmospheric black metal entwine as lovers caught in a frozen embrace, where each riff becomes a shivering echo of internal desolation, breathing the coldness layered with the spectral haze of black metal’s aggression that magnifies the intimacy of pain, as if the artist’s fragile psyche whispers directly into the listeners.

This album is a poetic descent into the void of loneliness and abandonment, where hope withers under a colourless sky, and the self fractures into ghosts of memory and dread. The verses drip with vivid, haunting imagery: putrefied walls, blood flowing, whispers of ancient rancour that vibrate with an unbearable tension between terror and a fragile lucidity.

Sonically, the album oscillates between these two genres, but this time with greater focus on the depressive side. However, it is bookended in a spectral dungeon synth intro/coda that casts a ghostly circle around the entire work, binding its darkness into a timeless, mournful ritual. Not merely opening and closing the record but direct the listener to the liminal space between reality and nightmare, a realm where despair becomes almost tangible, a mist that clings to the skin and seeps into the bones.

To listen to “The Hermit” one must surrender to the chilling embrace of sorrow and feel the cold breath of despair brush against your skin and follow its trace through echoing corners of the mind. It is an invitation to inhabit the hermitage of anguish, where the lines between self and shadow blur, and the heart beats in time with the relentless pulse of the void.