The Primordial Record

The pain that suddenly erupted continued to increase until her wounds began to bleed, what emerged from her body at first was black smoke, and then a rush of stinking black blood like a greater part of her body had rotted from the inside, before fresh red blood poured out of the wound and a new foot reappeared.

Circe sighed in relief, the pain that erupted from her foot was a sign that her body was healing, the emptiness she had felt before was one of death.

If she had not heard the sound of the ground being destroyed by the darkness behind her she would have been consumed by the darkness without her knowing. She was sure the darkness had barely brushed against her body but she had lost a foot and her internal organs must have rotted, but what was the most frightening about all of this was the fact that she had not felt anything.

If not for the pain of her healing body, she would have rotted into a stinking puddle.

'Where am I, where is this place?' Circe could not help but feel a cold in her spirit, she had been screaming for Rowan constantly inside her head and she could not find his presence, even her Incarnation was gone.

Then she heard a sort of mental switch activate itself inside her head and the chill she felt grew warm and a feeling of satiety replenished her until she felt that she would explode, and if not for the marvelous amount of power that had filled her body since it was recreated by Rowan Circe would be howling in equal part glee and fear.

Her body surged with power and she felt something more wholesome, her soul was growing stronger with every breath she was taking, it was as if this castle was a fountain of power and vitality. The darkness outside the castle began to vibrate as if her growing presence was anathema to its existence.

Circe was becoming a goddess at this moment, but everything still felt surreal, not at all how she imagined an ascension to this esteemed status would be like. Is this my Tribulation?

"You are not alone!"

Her soul power was increasing and perhaps it was the reason she was able to sense that she was not alone. Someone was here with her in this place.

All this while the wind had been moving, but her state of mind and her perception were so limited that she was now recognizing that this wind was moving in a measured pattern… breathing. The breath of a single person was stirring the wind.

'So it begins.' she did not have to guess who must be behind her, was it not the target of her mission?

She turned to see a man sitting on a throne of ice that was situated precisely in the center of a massive hall, in fact, the entire castle was just this single hall.

His blue eyes were filled with lightning, scrutinizing her like a snake gazing at a rodent. His pupils began to rotate and Circe began to feel the rush of power of ascendancy that was making her a goddess began to slow down but it did not cease but was reduced to a trickle, effectively halting her path to become a goddess.

Looking at this man was like staring at the heart of the sun, he was like a concept given life, every single hair on his body was being engraved in her mind with a careless abandon that made Circe feel as if her head was about to explode, but she could not stop looking at him. It was a compulsion that was beyond her control

"Boreas!" she gasped, as blood began to run down her eyes and nose. Only the slight pulse of power entering her body from the castle was keeping her on her feet.

He looked like a young man of eighteen, with short blue curly hair, and a strong jawline, and it was not hard to see that he resembled Rowan, his features were perfect but the slight tilt of his head gave Circe an impression of arrogance and disdain from this god, Circe could as well be a passing breeze.

At his feet and surrounding his throne connected by thin strings of lightning that radiated from his body were countless small statues, which Circe abruptly realized were Animas! There must be hundreds of thousands, but her budding Immortal soul gave her a number — 111,100,610, and they were not truly Anima but were called Spirit Guise after Boreas discovered a method to splinter his consciousness into Living Stone that was infused with a small part of his Anima.

This was his secret weapon and up till this moment, no one else had seen this sight. Boreas would like to believe that with this power he was stronger than the rest of the gods combined except for the God King, but it was hard to tell the hidden card that the rest of them controlled.

"It is true what they say. If you live long enough, you shall see everything." the voice of Boreas was soft, like an old man on his deathbed, this was not the sound that should emerge from a face that was this young.

"You are not a culmination of one of my Spirit Guises given life. You are of my bloodline yet you are not. You are a perfect copy of one of my Spirit Guise, but you are one. How strange. Is this a game of the Trickster?"

Circe swallowed, the strength of move talk less of to speak was gone from her body and the best she could do was to gasp.

Boreas sighed, "Whatever game is being played here I would see it end." He stretched forth his hand and a great palm made from lightning and ice seized Circe, covering her body and leaving only her head.

The hand began to squeeze and finally Circe could scream when she felt her body began to disassemble itself as all the power she had seized from the castle was being collected by Boreas.

The pain was astonishing, but in the midst of her agony, Circe could not help but note that this pain was not the worst she had felt, during her creation in the hands of Rowan, the pain had been much worse.

'Did he know by that time that this journey he was about to place me in would be filled with pain?"

The consumption continued but Circe's mind was free and deep inside her spirit where she could not reach was two drops of Aether.

Circe grinned as the suction from Boreas reached them and they vanished, taken by the god.

With her fading strength she looked directly at Boreas and she smiled.

"Checkmate."