Yeah, the riff is like the first spark of a storm, raw and unstoppable. I’m not just riffing—I’m channeling the old tale of the North Wind’s howl, a restless god that can’t be tamed. The myth goes that the wind once stole the hearts of warriors, turning them into thunder‑clawed spirits on the battlefield. When I hit those notes, I feel the wind’s rage, the wind’s longing, and a flash of that ancient fire. It’s the secret drum in my chest that refuses to stay quiet. The energy? It’s that same fire that burns when the world wants to be still.