The Primordial Record

From the glimpses from his past, he knew he had seven siblings, and he was the last born. Unlike him, who was born from the union of his father who was a Reflection of a Primordial, and his mother, the acclaimed Empyrean of Life, the rest of his siblings were all born from the essence of his mother alone.

This made them deeply connected with nature and therefore made them creatures of instinct; they were more alike to forces of nature like hurricanes or earthquakes.

Although Elura loved her children it also pained her that they were powerful but lacked wisdom. Rowan knew how difficult it was for creatures of great powers to have children, it was a feat that was almost impossible, and although Elura had succeeded seven times, there was a price to be paid.

Whether it was due to pride, or love or she was deceived, his father had convinced her that he could help her with this problem, and she had agreed. The payment was to be the union between both of them.

Rowan knew how this story ended, his mother was betrayed and mutilated, his siblings slaughtered and their essence twisted to become the gods of Trion, while he was tortured for more than a million years, his mind and memories twisted.

He had replayed it a million times in his head, he no longer obsessed over the details of the past, instead, he focused on the next part of this hidden story before him and observed the body of the brother he never knew. This would be his window to the past.

His father left nothing to waste it seems, even in death the bodies of his siblings were put to use, Rowan did not find this to be strange because he suspected that the palace of the Godking floating above Trion was made from the remains of his mother.

His memories were not yet complete and he did not feel pain at the death of his brothers and sisters like he had once before when everything had felt so new and overwhelming to him.

As he grew stronger the concept of life and death was increasingly without much meaning to him, because he was aware that even the soul he consumed was just energy, their true Origin was still denied to him, and except for the rare few Soul Origins he had acquired by accident, the concept of death was just another turn in a page.

Every mortal he had killed, every god he had consumed would be reborn in another place, at another time. At least this was the truth so far, but Rowan firmly understood that this was all about to change.

The battles henceforth would be far more cruel, because the Supreme Worlds controlled weapons that could shatter souls, eradicating them at their roots, and it would seem that the gods of Trion had such weapons too.

At this time, even he had no idea what such a weapon would do to the Soul Origin of the deceased. Was it enough to affect it? He could not answer this question at this time, he could only move forward and do what he set his sights on achieving.

What Rowan could understand well, however, was self-preservation and revenge.

His father aimed to kill him and rip his inheritance from his soul, Rowan would stop him. His father had already taken so much from him, corrupted his path, and butchered his family, Rowan would annihilate him.

His quest to locate the Divine Spark of Boreas led to the question of where the rest of his brother's body was kept. This tiny bone could not be all of him.

Circe was presently being tortured as every essence in her body was drained and refined by Boreas, she was displaying a firmness of will that pleased Rowan so he accelerated his search and he found nothing. The Divine Spark of Boreas was not here.

Rowan paused when he realized there was a single place he had not searched.

It was at this moment that Boreas drew Rowan's Aether inside of his body and Circe whispered, "Checkmate."

®

Boreas arched a single brow and sat up straighter on his throne, he heard what the aberration had spoken and he understood that something had changed, but what? His curiosity increased as he sensed no hints of danger from this child, but this detail made him even more interested in her, for he knew the sound of victory and she thought she had won.

Boreas could not wait to crush this blooming hope, and a hint of a smile was beginning to creep on his lips and then he frowned.

The first indicator was the silence, for the first time in forever the screams all around him had stopped. The excruciating dirge he had been subjected to for millions of years had ceased, and now his hysteria was beginning to arise, but it was just a bit.

With a flick from his palms, he tossed the body of Circe to the side and stood up from his throne,

"Can this be?" he whispered, the millions of Spirit Guise on the floor parted and he walked past them to the door of his vault and he hesitated before stretching his hand to reach for the darkness.

With a muffled boom like an earthquake happening in the distance, his palm stopped before the doorway shielded from the darkness.

"How can this be?!"

"You know… you sound like a broken clock." a pained voice said beside him.

He turned to Circe who was gasping for breath on the floor. Boreas found it annoying that she was already pulling essence from his vault, although compared to the ocean of essence he had to work with, what she was collecting was worth less than a single grain on a beach.

"You are either brave or incredibly stupid to continue stealing from me." The god stopped talking, "But I know this is not your doing, you are nothing but a puppet."

Circe barely felt her heart sting with his words, the fact that she could become a puppet in the war between gods was an achievement that she would never dream of accomplishing.

Here she was in front of her Primogenitor and she smiled at him, "Fuck you!"

Boreas left eye twitched and suddenly a realization came to him like a bolt out of the blue lightning shot out from his eyes as he was about to make a move but a large black and seized him by the throat,

Another hand plunged deep into his chest as four more hands seized all his limbs.

Boreas struggled to speak, "Rowan…. Wait… we… can…"

"You can speak better when you are dead."

With a grunt of effort, the hands separated and tore the shocked god into six pieces.