Story Time: The highlands of Caledwyn were wrapped in a perpetual mist, a soft blanket of fog that clung to the rolling hills like a quiet breath from the earth itself. The mornings were never bright here. Instead, they began in the gentle twilight of dawn, the sun hidden behind a veil of clouds. There was no harshness in this land, no sharpness to the light. Only a soft, diffused glow that turned everything into shades of green and grey, as if the world had been painted in watercolor and left to blur at the edges. Ariselle had always felt at home in the mist. Each day, at the break of dawn, she stepped out of her small stone cottage, dressed in a long green gown that seemed to blend with the mossy ground beneath her feet. Her walks had become ritual, a sacred part of her life, though she could never fully explain why. There was something about the early mornings, when the world was still half asleep, that called to her-a quietness that was not simply the absence of sound, but a presence all its own. The path she took was not a well-trodden one. It was a winding route through the hills, one that seemed to shift slightly each time she walked it, as if the land itself was leading her. She never questioned it. She had learned long ago to follow her instincts, to trust that whatever guided her knew the way better than she did. It always led her to the same place. A hidden clearing, tucked away between two great hills, where the mist parted just enough to reveal the object of her silent pilgrimage: The Stone Guardian. The statue was immense, carved from the same ancient rock as the highlands themselves. It was a head, serene and meditative, half-covered in moss and lichen, as though nature had slowly claimed it over the centuries. The Guardian’s eyes were closed, its expression one of deep, peaceful contemplation, as if it had been lost in thought for millennia. The stone was weathered, its surface smoothed by the passage of time, and yet there was a timelessness to it, a sense that it had always been there and always would be. Ariselle had never told anyone about the statue. It felt too personal, too sacred to share. She wasn’t even sure if anyone else knew it existed, or if anyone else could see it. Perhaps it was just for her, a secret gift from the land. Or perhaps it was a figment of her imagination, conjured from the mist and her own need for stillness in a world that had forgotten how to be still. But whether it was real or not didn’t matter. It was hers, and that was enough. Each morning, she would sit at the base of the statue, her fingers brushing the soft, damp moss that grew up around its edges. She would close her eyes and breathe in the cool, misty air, letting the presence of the Guardian wash over her. It never spoke, but it didn’t need to. Its silence was a kind of language, one that Ariselle had learned to understand over the years. The Guardian didn’t offer answers or guidance in the way people did, with words and explanations. Instead, it offered a quiet understanding, a gentle reminder that some things didn’t need to be spoken to be known. In the presence of the statue, Ariselle felt a deep connection to the land around her. It was as if the Guardian was the embodiment of the highlands themselves, of the ancient wisdom that lay hidden in the stones and the moss and the mist. When she sat with the statue, she could feel that wisdom flowing through her, filling her with a sense of peace that was impossible to find anywhere else. She had often wondered about the origins of the statue-who had carved it, and why. There were no records of it in any of the old stories passed down in her family, no mention of a great stone figure in the highlands. It was as if the Guardian had simply appeared one day, fully formed and waiting. But these questions didn’t trouble her. They were like the mist-part of the mystery of the place, something that didn’t need to be understood to be appreciated. Sometimes, as she sat with the statue, Ariselle would open her eyes and wonder if it was watching her. Its eyes were always closed, but there was a presence in the clearing that felt alive, as if the Guardian was aware of her, as if it recognized her. It was a comforting thought, not one that filled her with doubt or fear, but one that deepened her connection to this sacred place. On this morning, as she sat in the familiar stillness, the mist seemed especially thick, wrapping around the clearing like a soft, grey cocoon. The world outside felt far away, as if it didn’t exist at all beyond the edges of the clearing. Here, there was only the Guardian and the quiet hum of the earth beneath her. She let her mind drift, as she often did in these moments, her thoughts becoming as soft and diffuse as the mist around her. She didn’t need to think here. She only needed to be. The Guardian’s presence filled her with a deep, quiet joy, a sense of belonging that was hard to find in the busy, complicated world beyond the highlands. For a long time, she sat in silence, her hand resting on the cool stone of the statue. She could feel the pulse of the land through it, a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to match her own heartbeat. This was her Eden, her sanctuary, a place where time stood still and the world made sense in a way that it never quite did anywhere else. As the mist began to thin, and the faint light of dawn filtered through the clearing, Ariselle stood and took one last look at the Guardian. It hadn’t changed-it never did. And yet, each morning, it felt new, as if it had something different to offer her, some quiet revelation that she could carry with her through the day. She turned to leave, her gown trailing softly over the moss, and the clearing slowly disappeared behind her, swallowed once more by the mist. The statue remained, silent and eternal, waiting for her to return tomorrow, or perhaps for the next wanderer to find it. As she walked back toward her cottage, the world around her slowly coming back to life, Ariselle couldn’t help but smile. Whether the Guardian was real or a dream, it didn’t matter. It was her secret, her peace, and that was all that mattered. In the end, the mist held its mysteries close, and she was content to let it.
Endearing gentleness carried upon the veiling mist, Demanding nothing, allowing to flow within the waves, Enveloping in the smooth curves, the divine presence solidifies, Nature dreams in tranquil silence, so untouched by life.
Calming indeed but be on the watch for those rogue apple trees or you may find yourself in deep trouble. Another grand creation, Orlando. Your artistry knows no limits. ☺
I hope you're enjoying this one, your presence and support means a lot : - ) You can support in the following ways: ∞ Download my artwork: orlandoorsen.gumroad.com/ ∞ Send a much appreciated Tip - ko-fi.com/orlandoorsen ∞ Like + Subscribe to my channel - www.youtube.com/@etherealodysseymusic?sub_confirmation=1 ~ ⌾rlando ♡ ∞
So glad to hear that,my friend ! Music-wise I’m using Logic Pro with a bunch of plugins and VSTs, such as Valhalla verbs, Omnisphere, Arturia Pigments and cs80…. The list goes on! Some hardware like Korg Ms10, and then visually I’m using Midjourney, after effects and photoshop. Hope that helps, thanks for your support !
Story Time:
The highlands of Caledwyn were wrapped in a perpetual mist, a soft blanket of fog that clung to the rolling hills like a quiet breath from the earth itself. The mornings were never bright here. Instead, they began in the gentle twilight of dawn, the sun hidden behind a veil of clouds. There was no harshness in this land, no sharpness to the light. Only a soft, diffused glow that turned everything into shades of green and grey, as if the world had been painted in watercolor and left to blur at the edges.
Ariselle had always felt at home in the mist. Each day, at the break of dawn, she stepped out of her small stone cottage, dressed in a long green gown that seemed to blend with the mossy ground beneath her feet. Her walks had become ritual, a sacred part of her life, though she could never fully explain why. There was something about the early mornings, when the world was still half asleep, that called to her-a quietness that was not simply the absence of sound, but a presence all its own.
The path she took was not a well-trodden one. It was a winding route through the hills, one that seemed to shift slightly each time she walked it, as if the land itself was leading her. She never questioned it. She had learned long ago to follow her instincts, to trust that whatever guided her knew the way better than she did.
It always led her to the same place. A hidden clearing, tucked away between two great hills, where the mist parted just enough to reveal the object of her silent pilgrimage: The Stone Guardian.
The statue was immense, carved from the same ancient rock as the highlands themselves. It was a head, serene and meditative, half-covered in moss and lichen, as though nature had slowly claimed it over the centuries. The Guardian’s eyes were closed, its expression one of deep, peaceful contemplation, as if it had been lost in thought for millennia. The stone was weathered, its surface smoothed by the passage of time, and yet there was a timelessness to it, a sense that it had always been there and always would be.
Ariselle had never told anyone about the statue. It felt too personal, too sacred to share. She wasn’t even sure if anyone else knew it existed, or if anyone else could see it. Perhaps it was just for her, a secret gift from the land. Or perhaps it was a figment of her imagination, conjured from the mist and her own need for stillness in a world that had forgotten how to be still. But whether it was real or not didn’t matter. It was hers, and that was enough.
Each morning, she would sit at the base of the statue, her fingers brushing the soft, damp moss that grew up around its edges. She would close her eyes and breathe in the cool, misty air, letting the presence of the Guardian wash over her. It never spoke, but it didn’t need to. Its silence was a kind of language, one that Ariselle had learned to understand over the years. The Guardian didn’t offer answers or guidance in the way people did, with words and explanations. Instead, it offered a quiet understanding, a gentle reminder that some things didn’t need to be spoken to be known.
In the presence of the statue, Ariselle felt a deep connection to the land around her. It was as if the Guardian was the embodiment of the highlands themselves, of the ancient wisdom that lay hidden in the stones and the moss and the mist. When she sat with the statue, she could feel that wisdom flowing through her, filling her with a sense of peace that was impossible to find anywhere else.
She had often wondered about the origins of the statue-who had carved it, and why. There were no records of it in any of the old stories passed down in her family, no mention of a great stone figure in the highlands. It was as if the Guardian had simply appeared one day, fully formed and waiting. But these questions didn’t trouble her. They were like the mist-part of the mystery of the place, something that didn’t need to be understood to be appreciated.
Sometimes, as she sat with the statue, Ariselle would open her eyes and wonder if it was watching her. Its eyes were always closed, but there was a presence in the clearing that felt alive, as if the Guardian was aware of her, as if it recognized her. It was a comforting thought, not one that filled her with doubt or fear, but one that deepened her connection to this sacred place.
On this morning, as she sat in the familiar stillness, the mist seemed especially thick, wrapping around the clearing like a soft, grey cocoon. The world outside felt far away, as if it didn’t exist at all beyond the edges of the clearing. Here, there was only the Guardian and the quiet hum of the earth beneath her.
She let her mind drift, as she often did in these moments, her thoughts becoming as soft and diffuse as the mist around her. She didn’t need to think here. She only needed to be. The Guardian’s presence filled her with a deep, quiet joy, a sense of belonging that was hard to find in the busy, complicated world beyond the highlands.
For a long time, she sat in silence, her hand resting on the cool stone of the statue. She could feel the pulse of the land through it, a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to match her own heartbeat. This was her Eden, her sanctuary, a place where time stood still and the world made sense in a way that it never quite did anywhere else.
As the mist began to thin, and the faint light of dawn filtered through the clearing, Ariselle stood and took one last look at the Guardian. It hadn’t changed-it never did. And yet, each morning, it felt new, as if it had something different to offer her, some quiet revelation that she could carry with her through the day.
She turned to leave, her gown trailing softly over the moss, and the clearing slowly disappeared behind her, swallowed once more by the mist. The statue remained, silent and eternal, waiting for her to return tomorrow, or perhaps for the next wanderer to find it.
As she walked back toward her cottage, the world around her slowly coming back to life, Ariselle couldn’t help but smile. Whether the Guardian was real or a dream, it didn’t matter. It was her secret, her peace, and that was all that mattered.
In the end, the mist held its mysteries close, and she was content to let it.
Your channel is a breath of fresh air in a world polluted by stress and anxiety, offering a moment of respite and relaxation for the weary traveler.
Glad you’re enjoying my work
Endearing gentleness carried upon the veiling mist,
Demanding nothing, allowing to flow within the waves,
Enveloping in the smooth curves, the divine presence solidifies,
Nature dreams in tranquil silence, so untouched by life.
So serene, thank you
Orlando, good morning my friend. Great sounds to start off the week. The Zen atmosphere and sounds you provided with this one is spot on.
Hello again my friend, welcome back. Indeed we need some zen today, hope you feel soothed , have a great week : - )
@@etherealodysseymusic You as well!!
In a scenic atmosphere deep sounds, love to dwell in such fantasy. Thanks my friend @Orlando.
Anytime my friend ! Enjoy : - )
Sheer perfection ny friend!!! 👏👏💚😍😊💎
Thanks so much : - )
Calming indeed but be on the watch for those rogue apple trees or you may find yourself in deep trouble. Another grand creation, Orlando. Your artistry knows no limits. ☺
Glad you enjoyed it my friend.
But they look so tasty 🍎🍏!! Just one bite can’t hurt…..
My goodness this is amazing
Thank you for composing this.
Thank you my friend, so glad you enjoyed
Also just noticed you're over 20K subscribers, congratulations!!!
I can’t quite believe it to be honest ! So happy with all the amazing people that support my channel, may our community thrive and expand
So good…🌟🍂🍁
glad you enjoyed it my friend
I hope you're enjoying this one, your presence and support means a lot : - ) You can support in the following ways:
∞ Download my artwork: orlandoorsen.gumroad.com/
∞ Send a much appreciated Tip - ko-fi.com/orlandoorsen
∞ Like + Subscribe to my channel - www.youtube.com/@etherealodysseymusic?sub_confirmation=1
~ ⌾rlando ♡ ∞
Really enjoying these while studying and being productive, definitely help with concentration and focus, well done! 💯💯❤❤
Thank you my friend, so glad you enjoyed and appreciated it
@@etherealodysseymusic Thank you for creating these!
Thank you, sending gratitude and prayer to you 🙏 ❤
You are so welcome, same to you!
Awesome
What equipment do you use to make this? And what software do you use? Love listening to it while working. Thanks!
So glad to hear that,my friend ! Music-wise I’m using Logic Pro with a bunch of plugins and VSTs, such as Valhalla verbs, Omnisphere, Arturia Pigments and cs80…. The list goes on!
Some hardware like Korg Ms10, and then visually I’m using Midjourney, after effects and photoshop.
Hope that helps, thanks for your support !
Sound great. What type/plugin of reverb did you use?
Thank you my friend, I’m using Valhalla verbs - supermassive and room
@@etherealodysseymusic Great choice, those are some of my favorites too. Thanks
🤍🤍🙏🙏💖💖
Glad you enjoyed
💙🩵💚