The Primordial Record

Circe believed that if nothing changed on the surface and very quickly, the book she was reading would be among the last remnants of Trion's glorious history, no matter how you looked at it, in its way, Trion had left a mark in the universe, but as sudden as a blink of an eye, a single decision was turning the planet upside down.

This was a stark reminder of the power to shatter their existence that lay in the hands of every god. Such power was also in her hands, but she would die first than corrupt everything that she held to be sacred. Life should not be so cheap, no matter how easy it is to take it.

The problem arises when the gods in question are mostly mad or apathetic to the plight of mortals, and the worst of this lot were the Trion gods who seemed to enjoy suffering and depravity.

From what she had seen inside the Vault of Boreas, the gods were also in their own hell, and they had begun to share this pain with the mortals.

There would be no good end to this madness. More than ever, she wanted it all to cease, and she prayed for the return of Rowan, as she wondered inside her; what would be the fate of Trion and the rest of the universe if Rowan did not exist?

She would rather not find out. An example was already displayed here, and it was already breaking her heart.

Circe continued reading for the next eight hours before she returned the last book to the shelf, being immortal meant her soul could contain all the information she had ever read, and she could perfectly recollect all the details in the 15,676 books she had been reading for the last seventeen hours. She rolled her shoulders, dissipating the extremely minor fatigue that had built up after staying still for close to a day, and turned around to the tip of a spear an inch away from her throat.

Although the spear was not touching her skin, the sharpness of its blade had already cut through her skin which was supposed to be harder than diamond, and the wound was surprisingly not healing.

She held her breath and stopped herself from swallowing as her blood slowly pooled around her neck. Circe traced the handle of the spear that was firmly gripped by a fair hand, up to the face of a woman with green eyes and wings like an eagle, who looked down at her with disdain. The woman was statuesque, a bit over seven feet tall, with an imposing presence that froze the surrounding space.

Circe was a powerful Major god and she knew she could stand toe to toe with any of the gods of Trion, but before the gaze of this woman, she knew she was outmatched. Her powers did not overwhelm her, Circe could sense that she was a High god, but the energy she gave felt incredibly dense, so much so that if she was not experiencing it with her body she would have thought it was impossible.

The only word Circe could find for it was complete. Her powers felt complete as if they encapsulated everything that was of significance, leaving nothing to waste. Even if Circe could equal her in might, it would be like pushing a slight puff of wind before a steel wall.

This was not a god of Trion, in appearance or Aura, there was nothing linking her to this world, she was a new factor.

This was not good, nothing like the addition of more unknown players to make a bad situation devolve into chaos.

Circe held still and her eyes shifted to the left when she heard a rustle of papers and she found a child who should be around eight years old calmly going through the reports she had kept aside for Rowan. Every note was written by her hand and she had assumed they were safe.

There was a steaming cup of wine beside the child, and from the massive jug standing beside the table which was now half empty, she feared that they had been inside this room for a while and somehow she had not been aware of it.

'shit, shit, shit!' Circe shivered as she screamed internally, while she had been reading, they had been here all this time. A spear had been placed against her neck and she had been oblivious.

The body of the boy suddenly fuzzed out and returned to normal, as if he was a projection that had suddenly malfunctioned before being hurriedly corrected.

In that instance when it happened, Circe felt that she had seen something inside him, like thousands of blinking white eyes hovering over a trillion winged figures with flaming swords, but her mind had already forgotten this detail.

Whatever she saw must have been so horrifying that her soul had purged it away before she could even comprehend it. She knew this for a fact because her entire body broke out in goosebumps, sweat covered her skin, and her head felt as if someone had been jabbing pitchforks into her brain.

Her hands twitched and in response to that minor movement, green lightning, resembling tiny snakes emerged from the spear, hissing and crawling slowly toward its tip, Circe did not doubt that if a single bolt reached her skin, she would be ash.

Her movement froze again, but the shame and fury inside her chest threatened to destabilize her, but she calmed herself, if they wanted her dead, she would already be dead, instead of making useless motions, she should be gathering information and looking for a method to send it to Rowan and find a way to shift the tide in her favor, but everything she was noticing filled her with helplessness.

If she could not escape death, then it was a foregone conclusion that everyone here would die, she could only make a contribution if she managed to bring the details of these new players to Rowan.

The spear that this armored woman was holding to her throat should have been useless against a goddess like her, but she could feel its Aura not only wrapping around her material body but also her Divine Kingdom. It might appear on the surface that this spear was pointed at her throat, but it was instead pointed to her Divine Kingdom.

Circe was familiar with metals and other materials for weapon crafting, and she noticed that the spear, although masterfully made, was not special, it was the Aura and the energy imbued around it that was threatening.

She furiously calculated inside her head that if she made a move, she would be dead in a tenth of a second, that was how long she estimated for her Divine Kingdom to be nothing but ash, but she needed at least three seconds to make sure a message was left for Rowan. How would she go about shortening this time? Her mind furiously spins the question around, looking for any possible solution.

Her gaze shifted back to the boy reading her written report, there was nothing inside it that they would find that could potentially lead to Rowan, they would only know she was answering to someone else.