The Primordial Record novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Puppet and The Puppeteer

The second figure was chubby and looked like a man who enjoyed his meals far too much, he had a perpetual smile on his face, that made him seem carefree, but he had a regal presence both in his demeanor and voice, which painted a confusing image for Rowan, he was like a pig that had the presence of a lion. This was the third prince.

His eyes unconsciously misted over, and he felt like crying," What is wrong with me?" Rowan struggled to push the uncomfortable emotions aside, and he barely succeeded, his eyes drifted to the rest of the audience, they were the normal aristocratic ensemble, men in three-piece suits, with canes that had become popular recently, it must still be all the rage because most of them were still holding them even while dancing, the ladies were in long flowing dresses that were primarily white with a dash of gold.

A gloved hand rested on his shoulder,

"Interesting, what do we have here?"

His heart sank to his stomach, and he was frozen in place, he could not move because the hand on his shoulder sent waves of icy chill through his body, Rowan's breathing was short and forceful, and each breath brought out plums of cold air, he was about to be frozen to death!

"What do you have there, Boris?"

"A little chick, General. A little chick who survived his crushed shell"!

"Humph…. It appears your little experiment bore fruit".

A sudden feeling of heat, and Rowan felt that he had been stripped down and meticulously scrutinized, every cell of his body was dissected and cataloged, the General voice continued, "although it's a little rotten and lacks any essence".

"Rowan…dear boy, you survived, you made it", the joyous voice of the third prince resounded in the now silent hall.

"Not for long" Rowan gasped.

"You brute, Unhand my son"

The hand tightened on Rowan's shoulders until he nearly screamed in pain, then mercifully let go. Sweet relief came after, as Rowan hurriedly backed away from the figure that loomed behind him.

"Come to me, son"

Rowan's father's voice was a siren call, as he hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping in his haste, the open arms of his father welcomed him; he ran into his embrace, and for that moment everything was bliss.

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At that moment, in the room Rowan was in, the Black Book on the altar shivered, the pages began to turn, but they turned slowly, page by page until it got to the sixth page, it slowed down further and seemed to struggle against an unknown barrier, but it eventually opened and rested on the seventh page.

The page was blank, and dark as an unfathomable abyss, eventually, the picture of a face began to emerge from the page, it was of Rowan, but he was grown up, his eyes burned with pale flames, and words formed below the image, a language so ancient that it had left all living memory.

"Ascend the throne of grace, eternal mercy of all seasons".

The book folded on itself and vanished.

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Time was slowly coming back to normal speed, and it took little effort of will to let his body continue the laments to his father, his sixth sense was tingling like an over-tightened guitar string about to snap. _{freeωebnovēl.c૦m}