The Primordial Record

Rowan’s consciousness was suddenly drawn back into his body, the book in his heart closed and faded away, but he was excited that this strange new detachment of his mind remained, though in a more limited manner, at that moment, pain filled his body, he heard a panicked cry from the third prince, and as his awareness fell into oblivion he silently cursed at his deceptive father.

His enlightened spirit had seen traces of a pale glow that struck his head from the eyes of the Third prince, knocking him out.

I had a long dream.

A great skull rested in a lake of blood. On the skull a mighty palace was built, a palace that now lay in ruin, my sight zipped into the palace where a man sat on a throne of ice, and before he was an army of a thousand angels, and he said to them:

"Take the light from my eyes, so you can see"

With a sound that shattered the skies, wings of gold unfurled and the army of angels looked at me and smiled.....

I heard a whisper

"I thought I was a man, but I am nothing but char and cinders "

And I fell into a black abyss. And below laid a great white wolf, "come to me." said the wolf.

"Young master, wake up!"

Rowan pushed himself from the depth of dreams, his consciousness felt lethargic, yet as his mind ascended to the light of wakefulness, he pushed himself to be alert and discerning. He was not in Kansas anymore. If he did not adapt, he would perish.

The voice that entered his ears was like the twittering of a bird, he felt a soft shake and he grudgingly opened his eyes. His mouth felt dry as a desert,

"water"

"A moment," a warm hand lifted his head, and he felt the edge of a cup pressed against his lips, "Here you go, young master. Drink slowly."

After quenching his hellish thirst, he looked at the speaker and recognized her, she was a young lady who could be in her twenties, she wore a black palace attire, with gold buttons, a silver-rimmed glass was perched on her dainty nose, and her black eyes were filled with care and concern. She was his sworn protector, she was picked to serve him until he passed, and would never betray him, even in the throes of torture and death.

"Maeve" Her name came to him without any thought, "Where am I?" Rowan whispered.

"Young master you are home, you were brought back two days ago, thanks be to the Holy Mother, you are now awake."

"Two days?.... Maeve, why do you still recognize me? My body has changed!" Rowan’s pubescent voice was filled with confusion and loss.

Maeve smiled at him, "Young master, I grew up with you as a boy. I have bathed, clothed, and fed you, I know every scar and birthmark on your body, I know your voice and your scent, it is my sworn duty to serve you forever, even blindfolded I would still know you, and on the day you die, I shall follow you to the underworld to serve you."

Rowan looked deeply at her, musing internally that her young master was gone, "Help me up, I want to walk."

"Okay, young master, but you need to eat first"

At the mention of food, Rowan placed his hand on his stomach, "Indeed, I am starving"

She smiled in amusement when she saw the familiar gesture Rowan used when he was famished, she hurriedly assembled the dishes that were still hot by his bedside, seemingly pulling them out of thin air.

Rowan assigned that strangeness to his still blurry mind, Maeve hovered over him like a mother hen as he ate, encouraging him to eat more, her smile growing gradually as he ate an astonishing amount.

Rowan nearly swallowed his tongue, the food was that good, Maeve served the meal in courses with baked oyster as the appetizer, the main course was roasted beef accompanied by a savory vegetable he could not identify, and delectable pasta was served alongside it, the desert was plum pudding with a fruit that tasted like tangerine but looked like an apple, the wine that he drank was cold, and its flavor was earthy and deep, it burned his throat on the way down, and he gasped in amazement, he tried to keep the bearing of a prince as he feasted but suspected that he failed.

Rowan saw the pleased look on her face, the previous Rowan was a picky eater, and frequently skipped meals unless he was coerced, he mostly used tonics and potions to keep his vitality. Indeed, all fingers were not created equal, Rowan sighed.

He shook his head at the mystery of life, before he transmigrated he was an orphan, dropped at the gate of the orphanage as a babe, he had a massive appetite, and he was always hungry, the sisters at the convent did their best to provide for him and the other kids, but it was not nearly enough.

"In this life, at least I won’t be a hungry ghost."

Rowan thought to himself as he patted his stomach, he was once again stuck by the dissonance of seeing his young hand, he should be ten years old now.

"I am afraid that the God of death must be fed up with me, not only did I transmigrate, I also became younger." He had a base sense of satisfaction as he looked at himself.

" Young master, it appears that not only did you not just get younger, you finally cured your ailing physique", She beamed and with a wave of her hand she made the empty dishes disappear from the bedside table.

He arched an eyebrow at that supernatural display, Maeve excitedly said, "Oh… Yes, young master, you can now step on the paths of Dominion, the dangers of Transformation would be drastically reduced."

Rowan frowned, "Dominion? Transformation? What does that mean, Maeve? My memories are blurry."