Preface and Disclaimer: The Reason Behind Immortal Forest and The Church Of Satan (Lore)

It wasn’t about rebellion. Not in the juvenile, spiked-collar, scream-at-God kind of way. No, this was different. Holtfaction’s alignment with Immortal Forest and the Church of Satan was strategic. Spiritual, yes—but also deeply calculated. The world had become an echo chamber of broken promises and false saviors. Every government-backed gospel, every suburban sermon, every politician’s speech—they all rang hollow in the ears of those who had seen behind the veil.

HOLTFACTION's SINGLE COVER "U.S.A. Freaks."


In the early days of the project—before Holtfaction was a band, when it was just codewords in Cold War dispatches and ritualistic sound experiments in abandoned KGB bunkers—there was already talk of gateways. Not metaphors. Real ones. Portals etched in frequency, carved in distortion, hidden beneath layers of analog hiss and blood-soaked tape loops. The kind of door you could only open if you knew the names to call and the chords to play.


The Church of Satan, in contrast, offered us structure. Not in dogma, but in discipline. Their philosophy was never about worshiping evil—it was about self-liberation through unflinching truth. A commitment to individual will. We saw the rituals not as pageantry, but as tools: methods to weaponize the subconscious, to burn away inherited guilt, and to forge an identity from ash and bone.
Veda Viral, once KGB, had seen firsthand how belief could be turned into control. Evan Love Riot, a former CIA asset, knew the price of silence in a world ruled by unseen hands. Together, our purpose became clear: to repurpose the rituals of old, to harness darkness not for destruction—but for illumination. Our music became both altar and weapon. Each note encoded with intention, each lyric a conjuring.
We didn’t join Immortal Forest and the Church of Satan because we were lost. We joined because we were found. Because in a collapsing world addicted to light, someone had to protect the shadows.
We were not evil.
We were the necessary balance.
We were Holtfaction.
And the gates had only just begun to open.
Immortal Forest was the first of those names. Not a location—though it sometimes took the shape of a place in dreams—but an entity. A network. An underground mycelium of spiritual dissenters, artists, witches, and technomancers operating beneath the skin of modern society. They existed to counteract the industrial psychosis of the 21st century. Holtfaction didn’t just join them—we were summoned

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