The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1752

Chapter 1752: The Chronicler, The Rememberer, and The Quiet Watcher

Circe, the blue-haired woman, replied, “Sheba is many things, and the truth of what she is can only be known by herself and the Creator, but I think of her as a nexus.” She did not turn even while replying to the Elythrii. “In her halls, I have seen too many strange places, and I believe that what I have seen are crossroads of realities that were, that are, that might be. It is not a creation in a dimension but a structure that incorporates dimensions. Its rooms are possibilities given form, yet I don’t know why I keep finding bones…”

Circe had no idea that when Sheba was under the control of the Prism, a lot of their members had been lost inside its endless passages, and the castle had not bothered to reveal this truth to her.

“…Originally it was not like this; there was the potential, of course, and then Row… the Creator placed a seed inside of it, and everything changed.”

Communication passed between the Elythrii as they tried to reconcile the image of their creator with what they were discovering in the realm outside their own.

Although they were discovering the mysteries outside their Reality, in some ways, this was also a journey to learn about their creator.

Lyra asked the question in the hearts of all Elythrii

“Who are you, Circe? What is your relationship with the Creator?”

The blue-haired woman smiled, “You know, that is one thing that he has not bothered to answer. As always, he expects us to figure out the answers. Let’s see, well, in this place, and I will consider myself as the Chronicler. I am tasked with knowing what occurs within these walls. My companion,” she gestured to the crow circling ahead, “is the Rememberer.”

The crow, Noctis, squawked in annoyance, pecking Circe on the head, but she shooed him off,

“Noctis knows everything that has ever been forgotten. At least, in this Reality. And the other,” she glanced down at the cat now weaving between her feet, “is the Quiet Watcher. It sees what is unseen, and does not speak. Ever!”

The black cat had a look of grief on its face, but it seemed to swallow any pride before sauntering after Circe.

The Elythrii followed the woman quietly after her answer, something about her strange personality making them calm. Chloy, an Elythrii Warrior, spoke out,

“Chronicler… This place, we have never seen anything like it before. You are its… caretakers?”

“Her caretakers…” Circe corrected while offering a ghost of a smile. “We are its inhabitants. Its guests. It’s prisoners. The semantics are fluid. Sheba provides. We all serve one master.”

They arrived at a room whose door was a single, massive slab of clear quartz. Circe placed her hand on it, and it opened without a sound.

The room within was a comfortable, if ancient, study. Books lined the walls, a fire crackled in a hearth despite the lack of visible fuel, and three chairs were arranged around it. The crow, the Rememberer, alighted on a perch made of a twisted piece of driftwood. The Quiet Watcher jumped into one of the chairs and began washing itself again.

“Find somewhere to sit, and Sheba would provide you with your needs,” Circe said, gesturing to the other two chairs to make her point. “You speak of the Creator. This is a subject of… particular interest to us, especially since we don’t know what he has been up to for a while now.”

The Elythrii did not sit in the physical sense, but their light-forms condensed into chairs of coherent energy, mirroring the offer of hospitality. They did not need to demand anything from Sheba and were wary of accepting anything that had not been properly vetted.

“What do you wish to know?” Lyra asked after they had settled.

“Everything,” Circe said, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. “We are aware of the Origin Land. The Rememberer holds the memory of the first law being set on the Reality, and he has informed us that the Creator was about to do the same with his realm. For myself, I have seen the shadows of the great mechanisms—the Weavers and Anchors—as they pass through the deeper walls of my mind. I am connected to him in ways I don’t yet understand. I know the Origin Land has an architect. But I did not know his realm had a voice. Or that he created… audiences.”

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