The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1753

Chapter 1753: The Silent Grove

Rowan watched the Elythrii leave the safety of the castle. It would not be long before they were thrust into the chaos of a dying Reality, and there was a single year left before his battle with the Throne of Primordial Demon.

This duel might seem simple on the surface, but Rowan knew it would be his springboard to the rest of Reality. He tentatively began to reach out to the lesser incarnations he had left inside Reality, while he plunged a part of his consciousness into Limbo.

This portion of his consciousness took the shape of a Death Crow because no one was foolish enough to implicate a Crow of Death or try to stop it as it went about its duties.

Rowan did not know how to navigate Limbo, or rather, he tried not to know, due to the fact that Limbo was a higher-dimensional space, and if he placed his consciousness into understanding its nature, traces of him would be left behind.

These traces might be picked up by the unknown denizens that prowled Limbo, and Rowan did not want the Primordials to know he was now able to freely access Limbo and its secrets.

Although he already expected them to know he was already capable of traversing Limbo, but like a child with a boat in front of an endless ocean, Rowan should not see the direction to row towards in order to find safety or shelter.

Limbo was true infinity, the kind a ninth-dimensional being could not encompass in a single glance, making it the last actual test of immortality.

So, Rowan did not try to understand Limbo; he just followed the guidance left in his consciousness by the Beast of Final Rest, and in the blink of an eye, the Crow of Death had crossed vast distances that would make Reality appear as small as a room before arriving in a strange new location.

The crow fluttered its wings before transforming into Rowan’s human body, and he looked around him in contemplation.

The place was not on any map, for it existed in the liminal space between the act of creation and the inevitable reality of its end. It was known as the Silent Grove.

Rowan understood that this place had manifested due to his presence and the power of Death that surrounded the area. He was getting used to the fact that his presence alone was enough to create something out of nothing, and when fused with the power of Death, this liminal space was created.

Here, the trees were petrified silver, their leaves frozen in an eternal fall, glimmering like a galaxy of suspended dust motes. The ground was a mosaic of white ash and obsidian, and a still, shallow pool reflected not the sky, but a swirling nebula of unborn possibilities.

The air was thick, silent, and heavy with the scent of ozone and forgotten memories. It was the perfect border between the song of life and the hymn of silence.

As always, Rowan represented creation and all of its infinite possibilities when he was before Death, because he knew that the Beast of Final Rest needed to be placed in a position where it could see balance, else with the nature of Death, he would be consumed before even saying a word.

In essence, Rowan had to show that he was worthy to be on the same playing field as Death. Although with the proof he had brought to this eldrith being, it should be more than enough to place him among the tables of the greatest in all existence, but Rowan always hedged his bets.

A ripple passed through the Grove. The motes of dust ceased their drift. The reflected nebula in the pool stilled. The primordial hum that was constantly emerging from Rowan’s body, even with this mortal shell, seemed to dampen, not out of fear, but out of profound, instinctual recognition.

From between the silver trees, it came.

The Beast of Final Rest.

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