The Primordial Record

Chapter 1682: To Be A Mortal

Rowan was silent for a while, and the voice of Eosah broke him from his thoughts,

“The direction you choose to pursue is fascinating. Especially for someone like you, a Destroyer. Still, I am not too amazed by it, after all, by all right, no Destroyer should be able to become a Reality, but you break all sorts of boundaries.”

“As much as I would like to take credit for that feat,” Rowan shrugged, “What I am was the influence of my surroundings growing up, and I have had to adapt to survive, even if it means finding creation out of destruction, or choosing the truth of a mortal even as a god.”

“I see. This wisdom, I fear, is something I do not share. I appreciate the allure of the changing, but permanence has always been my refuge.”

Rowan smiled, “I can imagine that to be the case. Noctis told me in the beginning that there was no death, but life eternal. But you must have known that would not last. I saw the first home they built, and despite how much they were proud of their creation, the wood that made up its walls came from trees, and the ash they filled up their firepits was first built from green leaves that had turned brown after being pulled from the embrace of their mother.”

Like him, Eosah became silent, recognizing the truth in Rowan’s words,

“Perhaps this is the reason why I fell, I could not see the change happening and believed in the permanence of my domain. Even now, I cannot see how you can easily merge with the fleeting soul of a mortal.”

Rowan could not move forward; his legs were still stuck to the ground, but his upper body had a fair bit of motion.

He gestured towards Eosah, beckoning her closer, “It is easier than you think. Come here and let me show you what it is like to be a mortal.”

Eosah laughed, a hint of her majesty slipping through the mask, and Rowan flinched. She took the form of a woman, but even till this moment, Rowan could not yet tell what her appearance was like; her features were slipping away from his mind as his perception could not capture what she actually was.

Eosah was what he would become, the final path on his dimensional journey, but even she must be stranger than other Realities because at her death, she was able to discover a power that transcended all forms of power known to all of existence, and that knowledge had changed her.

“Why would I want to be a mortal? I have never known the ache of a wound or the ache of a sigh. Why would I want to know what I shall never be?”

Rowan’s gaze shifted, but he did not withdraw his outstretched hand,

“In my experience, eternity is a mirror with no reflection. You have seen all, but you do not feel it, and that is a distinction that I have learned to appreciate. It is the reason why I fight, and you cannot know me, nor will I be able to understand you, if we don’t share this common knowledge.”

Rowan’s voice heightened with power, and his body began to shiver,

“My war with the Primordials, all of my sacrifices and my shame, all of it stems from this single knowledge of what it means to be finite. You have shown me welcome, Eosah, and now I will show you mine. You have offered me a chance to step into your heart, and now I am offering you mine.”

There was no air here, but something in between the two of them shivered like heat over desert sand. In Eosah’s eyes, something flickered that was almost like hunger. She slowly brought her hand forward,

“I accept this knowledge.”

With a solemn demeanor, Rowan reached forward and touched her wrist, and for the first time in eternity, Eosah flinched as Rowan took her into a special Memory, one where he was a mortal and died not of old age, but by a spear through the heart.

®

In this life, Rowan was five when he began to experiment with his mortality. Born an orphan, he had wandered into a forest where he found a stone, and over the coming weeks, he had sharpened the stone until he made a knife.

Kneeling down under a bright moon, Rowan sliced deeply into his palm with the knife, his bright green eyes watching his blood bead crimson and cold sweat pour from his brows as his little body shivered.

The voice of Rowan echoed across the memory,

“This is pain. It is not the wound that is painful. It is the knowing that it will fade even as you dread its staying.”

Rowan stayed with this memory for a while before he dragged Eosag deeper. Unknown to him, a similar cut had appeared on her hand.

A few years passed by in the memory in a blur, and the nine-year-old Rowan was in a deep forest, standing before an apple tree. He had stolen an apple in the orchard of a landowner and planted its seed in the depths of the forest.

Only one tree had survived and grown, and now that it had borne fruit, Rowan came here to harvest it.

He easily climbed the tree, plucked dozens of apples, and placed them in the pouch on his waist. He could sell these apples for some coins. Only after doing all of this did he come down from the tree and decide to eat from the fruits of his labor.

Selecting what appeared to be the juiciest from the lot, Rowan bit deep into the apple, its juice pouring down his chin, and in the same manner, tears dripped from his eyes.

The voice of Rowan rumbled,

“This is sweetness… it is only sweet because one day my tongue shall forget its taste.”

Not waiting for Eosah to deal with these memories, Rowan delved deeper, eager to show her the last part of what he considered the fate of mortality… loss.

Years went by in a blur, and he was now twenty and held the cooling hands of his first and only love. He had been crying for three days, and his heart was still so heavy it was almost as if it was about to burst.

“This is grief. It is the echo that outlives the song.”

Rowan pulled himself away from the memory and took back his hand from Eosah’s. In the depths of his memory, he had not been aware of the changes that had come across this being, but now he saw the cut in her hand, the tear on her cheek, and the crack in her chest as if something had hollowed out her heart.

Eosah was still for a while, and then a humming sound emerged from her body, and all the echoes of mortality were washed away from her body.

Her voice was no longer authoritative; now it carried a solemn nature,

“You are cruel, Eos, to carry all of these things inside you. You burn with them.”

Rowan laughed aloud as his body took a step forward, “And now, so do you.”