SOLSTICE

Dear friend,

Thank you for being here, and for walking alongside me through this journey. Because of your support, I can now say—quietly and proudly—that this trilogy is complete. With it, I’m closing a chapter shaped by fifteen years of music, memory, and becoming.

This page is made especially for you. It brings together Liminal, Equinox, and Solstice, along with a small bonus gift—Nightfall. That piece was written and held in silence for a long time, waiting for a moment like this. It felt right to let it go now, as a winter offering and a final thank-you.

Your listening, encouragement, and presence have meant more than I can fully express. You’ve been part of the inspiration that carried me through these years, and part of the reason I can step away with peace and gratitude.

Wherever you are as this year comes to rest, I hope this music meets you gently.
Wishing you a warm holiday season and a calm, hopeful new year.

With deep thanks,
Val ❄️🌙
As this year slowly begins to settle, I find myself in a different place than usual. Instead of my familiar end-of-year rhythms in New York City, I’m spending this season in Estonia — surrounded by quieter days, longer nights, and the kind of stillness that invites reflection. I’ll miss many people dearly, but taking a step away has given me space to look back with gratitude.

"Nightfall" is a small gift I’ve been quietly carrying for a long time.

I wrote this piece this summer in New York City, and I’ve held onto it ever since — waiting for the right moment. As I bring this chapter of my life to a close with my third and final album Solstice coming out in 2026 (Dec 23rd for all my dear friends who have pre-ordered) it felt right to finally finish it, master it, and share it as a holiday gift to myself and to all of you, gorgeous people.

It’s a cinematic, folk-rooted holiday instrumental — gentle, spacious, and meant for winter evenings. For candlelight, for memory, for letting the year soften at the edges. In many ways, Nightfall is both a thank-you and a farewell — a secret gift to myself that I now get to pass on.
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