The Primordial Record novel Chapter 1759

Chapter 1759: There Noise In Between

The frozen tundra gave way to a landscape of jagged, black glass mountains that reflected the chaotic sky in distorted, nightmare shades.

They had somehow crossed from the previous dimension into another, and Lyra noticed that the two powerful beings walking with them had been startled before they slowly settled. It would seem that this situation, while unexpected, was not an unknown possibility.

"Reality is changing, the Primordial Essence flooding into it is causing countless havoc across space and time," Fury muttered, but his voice was loud enough to reach everyone.

The air itself felt sharp here, and the Echo the Elythrii could sense from the distant Arena was no longer a distant thrum but a constant, oppressive pressure that made the Elythrii’s ears ring and their heads ache.

Only Fury seemed unaffected, whistling a tuneless, crackling melody that popped and hissed like a dying fire, but the Elythrii noticed that the phoenixes surrounding his body were dying faster than usual.

Vraegar moved with a new wariness, his colossal head weaving slowly from side to side, scanning the razor-sharp peaks.

"The Shattered Mirror, a place where a wormhole that once spewed Primordial Essence resided. I believed it must have been destroyed by one of the Primordial powers," he intoned, his voice lower, more cautious. "Reality is thin here. Reflections can become real. Thoughts can take shape. Guard your minds, little saplings. Do not give form to your fears. Mortal beings like you usually have many."

"Oh, lighten up, Frost-Scale," Fury said, kicking a shard of obsidian that skittered away and multiplied into a dozen identical shards before clattering to a stop. "It’s just a bit of existential feedback. It’s fun! Look," he said, stopping and staring intently at his own warped reflection in a tall pane of black glass. His reflection stared back, but its hair was a crown of roaring, furious flames, and its eyes were pits of molten rock. "See? I’m thinking about how handsome I am. And there I am! Handsome."

"You are thinking of your own vanity," Braegar corrected, a plume of frosty mist escaping his nostrils and freezing a patch of the glassy ground. "A concept so potent it requires no thinning of reality to manifest."

Fury stuck his tongue out at his reflection, which responded by baring fangs of solidified lava. He chuckled and moved on.

Lyra kept her patrol tight, their formation close, yet one of the Elythrii, Aelen, was looking around, a growing mania in his eyes.

Aelen’s knuckles were white on his weapon. "First Blade," he whispered, addressing Lyra, "I keep... seeing things. In the corners of my vision. Movements."

"They are not real, Aelen," Lyra said, her own voice strained. She had seen them too: flickers of dark, multi-limbed shapes skittering just at the edge of sight. "Do not give them your attention. Do not feed them."

It was easier said than done. The landscape played tricks on the mind. The whispering wind sounded like voices pleading in a forgotten tongue. The grinding of Vraegar’s scales against the glassy rock sounded like bones breaking.

Elara, the young warrior, suddenly cried out and pointed. "There! A child! An Elythrii child!"

They all turned. Standing between two sharp pillars of glass was a small, translucent figure, its form wavering like a heat haze. It had the general shape of an Elythrii youngling, but its face was blank, featureless. It raised a hand, beckoning.

"It’s a trick," Lyra said sharply, her glaive humming as she gripped it tighter.

"But it’s so real..." Elara took a half-step forward.

"Do not!" Vraegar’s command was like a physical force, freezing Elara in her tracks. "It is a Shard-Phantom. It feeds on longing and grief. It has pulled the image of a lost one from your mind, warrior. To touch it is to let it anchor itself to your soul, to drain your warmth until you are as cold and empty as this place."

The warning of Vraegar should have been enough, but somehow, Aelen had been able to squeeze through the barrier of the dragon’s will, and he had touched a pillar of black glass. His eyes widened as a silent scream emerged from his open mouth before he turned into ash.

The party went silent, the Elythrii in shock at losing one of their members and the dragon at failing to contain a mortal being.

Before the shock could settle in the hearts of the Elythrii, the black glass rippled, and a phantom of the dead Aelen stepped out of it.

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