The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1757

Chapter 1757: What Has He Done To You?

Death was acceptable, but it was foolish not to try to prevent it. Lyra knew danger was ahead, but if there were a chance to win, she would take it. This was the reason she went ahead to cross this dimension, but this dragon was beyond all of them.

Before Lyra could give the order to retreat, a wave of palpable heat washed over them, a stark and welcome contrast from the consuming chill emanating from the dragon.

Standing on a lower outcrop, seemingly unconcerned by the mile-long dragon above him or the armed warriors below, was a man.

Or something wearing the shape of one.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad in simple, dark travel leathers that seemed to drink the light. His hair was a wild, unruly mane of living flame, flickering through shades of crimson, gold, and orange, casting dancing shadows across a face that was both handsome and ageless.

His eyes, when they turned to the Elythrii, held a nine colored glow like a rainbow. He radiated an aura of immense, contained power, as miniature phoenixes danced around his body, all holding powers that would be equal to an Old One.

The Elythrii had learned of the tentative distribution of power in this realm. They were aware that Primorsials were at the peak of existence, and below them were Old Ones.

However, there were specific groups that were just below Primordials and above Old Ones, those whose power could crush any Old Ones but could not stand up to a Primordial, and they believed they had just come across two of those.

The three parties regarded each other in a silence broken only by the moaning wind. The dragon lowered its colossal head, its breath frosting the air into a blizzard.

"Little saplings," the dragon’s voice was the sound of continents of ice grinding together, a low rumble that vibrated in their bones. "You trespass in my contemplation."

The man with fiery hair snorted, a sound like a spark catching tinder. "Contemplation? Is that what you call brooding over your hoard of frozen tears and stolen memories, Vraegar? Don’t be so dramatic. The path is free for all. Mostly." Looking around at the bodies of the frozen Old Ones who had been drained of everything they had, the man chuckled, "I see that you have been eating quite well."

The dragon’s glacial eyes narrowed. "You are far from the halls of Trion, Phoenix Lord. Do not mistake my patience over our shared bloodline for indulgence. Your very presence is a stain upon the pristine silence that I crave."

"A stain? I’m the only bit of color in this desolate, monochrome eyesore you call a home." The man looked down at the Elythrii, a smirk playing on his lips. "And it seems we have an audience. Well, don’t just stand there shivering. Who are you, and what brings the children of the Verdant Tree to this cheerless place? I always thought the Primordial Domain knew well to keep their bloodline close, especially in times like these, when many hunts your kind for the many years of suppression they have suffered."

Lyra knew there were many nuances in politics that she was not aware of when it came to the affairs of this realm. They had taken the shape of the Eldars, from the Primordial Domain, the Land of Miracles, and it seemed she would have to chance it if their bluff could keep holding.

There was no way she would allow these powerful immortals to know about Elython, and she would rather perish before allowing that to happen.

Lyra stepped forward, her glaive held not in threat, but in readiness. Her people’s discipline overrode their fear. "I am Lyra, First Blade of the Eldarah. We are on patrol, away from our main group. We felt the... Echo, calling all to attend to it, and we are merely scouts."

"The Echo," the dragon mused, a hint of something like amusement in its world-ending voice. "A quaint name for the glorious call of the Arena. You feel the preamble to the symphony, little sapling. You cannot yet conceive of the crescendo."

"We are aware that there would be a battle," Lyra said, making sure she put a spot of pride in her voice that appeared to be stung by the condescension in the dragon’s voice, in order to maintain the facade of a member of a Primordial Domain. "We seek only to ensure it brings no harm to our lands."

Lyra blinked. "You propose we travel together?" The idea was absurd. A patrol of Elythrii warriors, an Elder Dragon? And... whatever Fury was.

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