The Primordial Record

He had the urge to curl up and escape from this vision, for the fragility of his flesh brought him great discomfort. The imperfection of his vision, the pitiful capacity of his lungs, and the many minor aches of a mortal body nearly drove him insane with disgust. 

He couldn't even take in a full breath because part of his nostrils were blocked, and he felt an itch beginning to grow in the crook of his back. 

He closed his eyes and strived to clear his head, his mortal mind made it difficult, he had ignored how much his massive Spirit made such an activity, for him, effortless. But this mortal flesh held too many concerns that battled for his attention. 

He began trying to remember how his massive Spirit had made him feel, luckily he always had a great recollection, and as he remembered that state of being, it began to settle over his consciousness. 

He felt a shift, and his body became stronger, and he opened his eyes only to see himself inside his shell, it was the first step he took to escape his mortal flesh, and although the present him could crush a thousand of this body, it was infinitesimally better than his previous mortal body. 

His Spatial Sight did not return, but his senses were sharp enough, and so at the edge of his perception he heard the cries of pain and despair, sounds of slaughter buried his senses with the smell of blood and ripped guts, and he saw countless people—They were being eaten. 

Not by Abominations, but by seven gigantic mouths with teeth that had been turned permanently red because of the countless lives they have eaten. 

They chewed and swallowed, rivers of blood pouring through the gaps of their teeth. Suddenly, as one they stopped, and be felt a chill in his spine for he knew that he had seen them, and they were beginning to search for him. 

A bloody wind suddenly picked him up and blew him away to a dark place, and he found himself alone. He was glad that the wind took him away from that place, but since it was so strong, the wind had destroyed his shell. 

In the darkness, he heard a whimper, and that sound brought light to his surroundings, and saw a familiar shape–Maeve. She was on her knees, with her back to him. On her body were terrible wounds. 

She had no arms, and one of her legs was a crumbled mush, as if someone had repeatedly crushed the leg with a heavy object. She was missing a part of her skull, a part of it had been cleanly sliced off. 

He could see inside her head, her brain pulsed weakly as if it had a dying heart hidden inside. And from that dreadful wound a golden feather grew. 

A horrendous blow had almost cut her in two, and her guts had been torn out sometimes in the past. She gave her last breath, and it echoed, "They would have to cross my dead body, to get to you, young lord."

Rowan did not know what to feel presently, on one hand, this was just a vision shown to him by a weapon he did not fully understand, was it prophecy, events of the past or the coming future? 

Recalling the painting he drew of Maeve, it was eerily similar to what he just witnessed, the only difference was that she had been shielding his fragile body. 

He smiled a little and knelt beside Maeve, he remembered a promise the young prince gave to her, that he would always try to smile, even when he did not want to. 

Whatever experiment was performed on him so that he may become a host for the Primordial Record, was not done with her agreement. She had fought them until her last, yet those bastards…  They did not let her die. 

The Maeve that had been with him was filled with injuries he could not see, yet his sight had shown him that she was still fighting for him. 

How much pain have you borne for me, without my knowing? 

"I don't know who is holding you now, but I will get you out." Peering at the vision of her corpse, she seemed to be looking at the clouds, so he knelt beside her, and he also watched the clouds alongside her. 

It was unknown how long he stayed beside her corpse, but he knew, outside in his body, it had only been a fraction of a second. 

Beside him, the corpse was now bones, and a single motion from him, caused it to collapse into dust. 

A gentle breeze came and gathered that dust, carrying it to the clouds above. Rowan unconsciously wanted to catch the bone dust, but he let go at the last moment. 

It was unknown how long he knelt there, or what thought went through his mind, but he sighed and wanted to drag himself away from this vision. Why was the damn Axe showing this to him? 

A change happened. He saw a green glow appear on the horizon. The glow—It seemed to free up the lethargy bounding his body. Rising, he began to walk towards the green light. 

The vision behaved like a dream because, as dreams tend to do, each step he took made the scenery change like an Escher painting, and he saw himself before a vast plain. 

The green brilliance was directly ahead, up in the skies. And the glow was becoming brighter because that light… It was falling! 

From his vantage point, Rowan could eventually see what the green glow was. It was a very familiar Axe. Unlike the four-foot great Axe that Rowan wielded. This one was the size of multiple building stories. Arcs of lightning wreaths the colossal weapon, and its descent tore the skies in two.

More quickly than Rowan's current body could anticipate, it reached the ground. The impact was deafening. And a green light flashed by him, so bright his eyes were burned away from his socket, leaving two gaping holes that bled blood and ash. 

Yet, he could still see! 

His body began to move, seemingly against his will, to the deep pit where the Axe rested. His feet were strong, but it were still fragile, it was pierced by shards of melted glass and roasted by the fires from the Earth. 

But he persisted. 

What drew him was the Axe. It was screaming in a voice like two divine metal striking together. 

When his body reached the Axe, he took his hands and touched the weapon. Thus, he saw the travails it faced. 

It was being eaten by an enormous serpent with eyes all over its body, countless chains pierced through the body of the serpent, and it bled darkness. The color of the serpent was blood-red. The serpent tore enormous chunks of living metal from the Axe, and the weapon appeared to shiver with pain.

With every piece torn from it, the Blood-red snake grew, and when it had consumed a third of the Axe it turned to him and spoke,

"I gave you my blood. Why do you linger in times long past?"

Rowan was perplexed, but for the moment he could not speak. If he could, he would have been screaming questions.

Rowan had a feeling that what he was seeing was essential, it could be the difference between surviving or perishing.

His mouth opened in a silent scream, but no words came forth, he had to understand. And he shook his head back and forth, clearly distraught.

  By chance, his perception caught a line of words near the hilt of the Axe, he was only able to see it due to the snake twisting the handle of the Axe, exposing the insides, and he could only see part of the message"Iron is my blood…"

Rowan heard the cry of the Axe once more and this time, he could understand its message. "I am Envy… I submit to the Child of Chaos"