The Primordial Record
The Primordial Record - Chapter 2: New Body

A raw and primal scream came from Rowan, as he attempted to push away from the bodies, ignoring the sickening sounds and the awful sucking sensations as he pulled himself from the bodies, fighting the bile that rose from his throat.

He looked around wildly, each rotation of his head bringing a new rush of horrifying new details. The room was large, clearly a master’s room, and was tastefully furnished, art pieces were scattered around the room.

Two gigantic windows were covered with thick curtains, the windows, and the curtains appeared crafted with care, he saw gold trimmings on the curtains, and fanciful embodiments on the windows, and everything screamed wealth and a desire to spend said wealth.

There was a large brown door, inlaid with gold and mysterious markings with the same figure of the Mermaid with three arms, but this time the mermaid’s arms pointed in various positions, in angles that did not seem to make any sense; he noticed that there was no blood stain on the door, which should be impossible because the entire walls, up to the ceiling was liberally coated with it.

Beside the door was a cabinet and a mini altar, with a large book on top, it was open, and the pages were black, it did not appear to contain any characters. The doors of the cabinet were opened and inside was a full-length mirror, with an elaborate design.

Why put such an expensive mirror inside a closed cabinet?

He mentally shook his head away from his musing, the thought process of whoever owns this place should be the last thing on his mind.

The reflection from the mirror drew him back into the horror that his wandering mind, for the moment, had chosen to forget.

He swept his gaze across the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at him, covered in dried blood, so thick only a few spots of pale skin flashed through eyes green as an ocean of emerald jewels, and hair plastered to his scalp.

He stared back in shock, for this was a child! He was a child!

Except he was mistaken about his three decades of memories and took the next logical step to madness and came to the grand conclusion that his life was what?

A simulation?

A random program in the matrix, or was there something more mysterious and mind-breaking, like him jumping bodies?

Reincarnation?

Transmigration? Was that even a word?

Was he in Hell?

Or was this something silly as someone playing a prank on him? But at such a level?

He was sure that God did not have that much leisure time, or did he?

How much leisure time does an omniscient being have? Every moment?

I am going crazy. Breathe Rowan. It could all be a lucid dream brought on by bad alcohol or overdosing on a particular white substance. Right?

Stop thinking and act! Look at yourself!

A wave of chills washed over him, and he noticed in the mirror that his mouth was wide open all this while, and he had been making a low keening noise like an injured animal. His appearance jolted him, and he pulled himself away from his reverie.

I need to leave this place.

That central thought was all it took to push him awake, panic raced along his veins like acid, and he crossed the floor filled with corpses, eyes focusing dead straight ahead. "Dead straight, he.." laughter burst from his throat.

"Get a grip, Rowan, you’re going cuckoo." He stared at his reflection, his laughing face looking more like a tortured grimace, "not a good look for you." He whispered. Hearing his voice helped, although it still felt strange hearing a different childish voice when he spoke.

Have I gone mad? Shut up brain.

The door was his goal, whatever crazy thing that happened here, or the crazier individuals who did it, he would rather not be anywhere near this location when they returned and continued where they left off.

As he got closer to the door, the sound of a party filtered inside the room, he thought he had been mistaken before when he heard sounds of laughter and celebration, but, his ears worked fine, there was a celebration happening somewhere close. "What sort of hellish game have I found myself in? Who can have any sort of celebration besides a place like this?"

The sound from the party oddly seemed to scare Rowan more than the room he found himself in, the occasional brioustrous laughter making him jolt as he picked his way across the room filled with the dead.

He found himself shuddering and coming to a stop, eyes clouded with confusion, and for a while, he stood and listened, and he began properly to filter the sounds he was hearing.

At first, it sounded alien and unintelligible to him, but as he listened more closely, the language seemed to merge in his consciousness and the puzzle clicked, just as a rush of images and sensations rushed through his head.

Rowan bent down in pain and squeezed his skull. He recognizes this alien language, it was the ancient Medan language, spoken only by members of the royalty of the Bramian Court and the Justice Council, it was deemed among the first languages of men given by the God King to those who shall rule.

He had a flash of recollection, of a solemn occasion in a red hall, where the priests anointed the head of each Noble child with Shining Abrosia, with this, their tongues were open, and they could speak Medan without going mad.

With that knowledge came a rush of memories, that were disjointed and chaotic, and he nearly buckled to the floor in pain, but now he knew his name, it was..., for a bizarre reason, he had a chilling sensation that he must not speak his name, he must not acknowledge his real identity at this place.

When the wave of pain passed, he pushed himself to the door, regardless of what came next, he was a man of action.

"Let me cut myself some slack, right? Because now, it seems to be that I am a child of action", he spoke wryly, his brain struggling to keep his sanity intact, in any way it could. He finally left the press of bodies and stepped towards the door, glancing sideways at the altar.

He hesitated before he touched the doorknob, his hand just hovering above it.

Pointedly ignoring the embodiment of the mermaid, which he would have sworn was looking at him.

His breathing increased a notch and with minor effort, he twisted the door knob to the side to unlock the door.

He opened it by a Crack and winced as the sounds exploded in intensity, the door must have impressive soundproofing