The Primordial Record

Chapter 1751: First Contact

The transition from the shimmering, hyper-dimensional substrate was not a smooth descent into a star system, but a sudden, silent translation into a space that defied all Elythrii sensory parameters.

One moment, their harmonic seed-ship was navigating the river of pure mathematics that was the Archai’s realm. The next, it was… docked.

There was no starfield outside their viewports. No planet. Instead, they found themselves in a vast, silent harbor of polished black stone, its architecture both impossibly ancient and eerily devoid of wear.

The air was still and carried the faint, dry scent of dust, ozone, and old parchment. The “sky” above was a vaulted ceiling of the same black stone, stretching into gloom, from which hung immense, unlit chandeliers of a twisted, metallic design. The only light came from a soft, sourceless glow that seemed to emanate from the air itself.

Their sensors, which had the power to map universes and perceive the flow of causality, went silent or returned nonsense readings. The laws of physics were… present, but idle, as if waiting for an instruction.

The Elythrii knew they would be stepping into a Reality outside their own, but what they were experiencing still made them shudder, and only the thrill of new discovery kept the fires burning in their hearts.

However, the ones who made this trip were among the most adventurous, and they were eager to plunge into the sea of the unknown.

“Location indeterminate,” Kaelen reported, his light-form flickering with frustration. “No stellar references. No gravitational gradients. Spatial dimensions are stable but… contextually null. It is a non-space.”

“It is a space,” Lyra corrected, her perception tuned to deeper frequencies. “But I think it is a made space. A defined one. We are inside something. Something vast. It almost reminds me of home, but it is too fragile to be placed in the same breath.”

Their ship had not landed. It was simply sitting on the polished floor of the harbor, as if it had always been there. A single, colossal archway led out of the harbor into shadowed depths.

As they watched, a flicker of movement resolved in the archway. Not a crystal entity, but a figure. A woman. She walked with a slow, deliberate pace, her footsteps echoing faintly in the immense silence. She was tall, dressed in robes of grey that seemed to shift like mist, and her face was pale and strikingly sharp-featured, with eyes that held a depth of knowing that was immediately unsettling. Perched on her shoulder was a large, iridescent black crow that gleamed with a faint purple sheen, which highlighted her blue hair.

The crow cocked its head, regarding the ship with one bright, intelligent eye. Winding around her ankles was a sleek, black cat with wings, its fur the same absolute black as the castle stone, its movements fluid and silent.

The trio stopped a hundred paces from the ship. The woman made no gesture, gave no signal. She simply waited.

“No energy signatures beyond baseline biological,” Elara the empath, an Elythrii ambassador, whispered, her voice tense with confusion. “But… there is a pressure. An awareness. It is not coming from them. It is coming from… everything. The walls, the floor, the air. This entire place is alive.”

Lightning-fast communication bounced across the Elythrii, and Lyra made the final decision, which was supported by the rest. “If they can come to us, we can go to them. No weapons. No active scans. We go as we are.”

The hull of the seed-ship dissolved into a curtain of light, and the Elythrii delegation descended. Their forms—shimmering constructs of energy and will—were a stark contrast to the grim, static architecture. They approached the woman, the crow, and the cat.

The woman spoke first. Her voice was dry, clear, and carried a weight of immense age. It was not loud, but it filled the silent harbor perfectly.

“You are new.” It was not a question. It was a statement of fact, a cataloguer noting an anomaly.

“We are,” Lyra replied, bowing her head slightly. “We are the Elythrii. We come in peace, from a dimension beyond this one. We mean no intrusion.”

The crow on the woman’s shoulder let out a soft, chuckling kruk sound. The cat sat, wrapped its tail around its feet, and began meticulously washing a paw, utterly unconcerned.

The woman’s lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. “Intrusion implies a boundary was crossed. Algoth has no boundaries to cross. You were… admitted. The question is not your intent, but your nature. Why have you been admitted?”

“Algoth?” Kaelen asked.

“The name it was given,” the woman said, gesturing slightly with one hand to indicate the infinite architecture around them. “It prefers ’Sheba’ now. A more elegant phoneme. It is still deciding.”

As she spoke, the Elythrii felt a faint shift. The polished black stone of the floor beneath their feet warmed by a fraction of a degree. The entire castle was listening.

“We came through a gateway,” Lyra explained, choosing her words with care. “A gateway we built with the knowledge given to us by Eos, the Origin of Eternity, the creator of our reality. It was a gift to allow us to meet others.”

At the mention of the Creator, the atmosphere changed. The woman’s sharp eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. The crow stopped preening and fixed both eyes on Lyra. The cat paused its washing and looked up, its pupils widening. The silent pressure of the castle’s awareness intensified, becoming a palpable weight.

“The Prime Mover,” the woman said, her tone now laced with a new, sharp curiosity. “The Unspoken Foundation. You have… communed with him?”

Lyra paused before replying as if she was deciphering the titles given by the unknown woman,

“We have felt his presence. He gifted us the potential to grow, to learn. And finally, the key to the doors between realms.”

The woman was silent for a long moment, studying them as one would study a complex and unexpected text. “Fascinating,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “He has never… gifted before, not like this. He usually sets the constants and observes. He is the law, not the librarian.” She looked from Lyra to the others, her gaze piercing. “You carry his Will. Faint, like a scent on the wind, but unmistakable. Algoth… Sheba… sensed it. That is why you were admitted. It has been eons since anything new has entered these halls. Come.”

Pointing towards herself and her curious companion, she said, “You can call me Circe Boreas, the Death Crow is Noctis, and the Lightning Kirin is Archimedes.”

She turned without another word and walked back toward the grand archway. The crow took flight, leading the way down the dark corridor ahead, its form occasionally lost in the shadows. The cat fell in step beside the Elythrii, looking up at them with unblinking green eyes before darting ahead to follow the woman.

The delegation followed, their senses overwhelmed. The corridor was not a simple hallway. It branched endlessly, with stairways that spiraled up into darkness or down into glowing mist. Doors lined the walls, each unique—made of aged wood, beaten copper, shifting light, or solidified shadow. Some were open a crack, revealing glimpses of impossible interiors: a room filled with a silent, raging snowstorm, a library where the books fluttered their pages like wings, or a vast desert under a binary star system.

“What is this place?” Lyra asked, her voice hushed.