Chapter 7 - Genesis and Sacrifice

The room stood still, draped in an oppressive silence as the weight of Old Man Obsidar's words seemed to anchor every soul present. An unexplainable atmosphere, dense and almost tactile, filled the air like an invisible mist as the tale unfurled like an ancient scroll, each word vivid and haunting.

"After the unintended creation of the first Primordial, the cosmos sealed him in the current dimension we inhabit. At that time, he was as innocent as a newborn, yet to awaken his intelligence. As he lived in this boundless isolation, he discovered his ability to bend the cosmic laws at will.

For thousands of years, he finally found himself touching the Law of Unity by accident-the moment that awoke his intelligence with a strange, incomprehensible emotion. Since then, his life has become intolerable; what had been a sanctuary became a prison. The independent dimension, once a boundless canvas, now felt desolate and empty.

Obsidar's voice faltered for a moment, before he plunged ahead, his words stroking sentences the way an artist might create a masterpiece in shades of loss. "In his attempt to stave off this endless void, he created twelve pools, bending the twelve fundamental cosmic laws to their extremes.

He used his own essentia as the foundation, pouring every fiber of his being into the construction of these pools. One of them, as you know, is our Void Pool. But such monumental creation came at a cost. His essentia was drained, his body ravaged by the backlash of his own ingenuity. And so, two thousand years later, I emerged from the Void Pool, the first of my generation. Each of my siblings also rose, born of the other pools, our father's legacy etched into our very essence."

The voice of Obsidar slowed, each word dripping with reverence. "Even though we did not understand the feeling of love our father showed us then, we can all recall the fierce, unyielding desire to protect us that burned in his gaze. He trained us, educated us, but his time was fleeting. He perished ten thousand years later. We mourned his loss without fully grasping the depths of his sacrifice. Only later did we learn that his death had been a deliberate act of creation. As his life extinguished, his flesh and essence, already interwoven with the laws, gave birth to two new entities: the Eternal Silk-a living, sentient fabric, intelligent and bound to us as companions and armor-and the Primordial Beasts.

Obsidar's voice shook for a moment, then straightened. "This," he said gravely, "is why we have ruled it taboo even to speak of these events."

Nihara's voice cut the somber silence, her eyes aglow with awe and mutiny. "Then for what reason have you now told us?" she asked, her carriage straightening, her curiosity now fully afire.

Obsidar's eyes bored into hers, his face inscrutable, yet somehow softer. "Because you," he said, his voice full of portent, "are now entangled with this law."

"Then those that mean Nihara injuries were because she stepped into the shore of law of unity," Zephyrion inquired, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder, causing both Obsidar and Nihara to turn toward him. His concern etched a stubbornness into his brow as though he sought to wrest the truth from fate itself.

"I told you not to feel pressed by my injury," Nihara shouted at him, flashes of annoyance like sunlight reflected in the curve of a blade. But Obsidar's voice cut through the tension like the toll of an ancient bell, silencing their gazes.

"Actually no," he started, his tone slow and heavy. "Given the law of unity produces harmony, it cannot be that. However, through my theory, there are two reasons I believe this to be the case: First, she must have been hurt before you two waded onto the shore, or she must have resisted the law initially, where your essentia clashed with hers until she was knocked out."

"So is there a way to heal her fast?" Zephyrion asked, his voice revealing in quiet desperation even as he feigned misunderstanding his wife's words.

Obsidar's gaze darkened slightly, as though the weight of the cosmos pressed against his brow. "Yeah, there is, but I'm not sure. Since both of you have stepped onto the shore of unity law, you can both heal and strengthen yourselves. But the problem is the material, which is Ascendant Essentia Crystal, needed in abundance." He explained, turning his knowing gaze to Nihara. "How is your injury compared to before?"

Nihara nodded, her voice slow as the heavy beat of a solitary drum in a large canyon. "Small, yet improvement does exist.

The name essentia crystal was just whispered, yet it rippled through the room as if the very echo of it hung in the silence. The rare and mysterious crystal was harvested from the Primordial Beasts-beasts found across all domains of the Primordial Race, yet to a great degree hidden within the sealed Primordial Dimension's secret world.

The revelation hung in the air, a thundercloud full of the weight of destiny, with no room for further questions.

Meanwhile, throughout this discussion, Nyxander listened intently, his little Titan body cradled safely in his father's arms. Though young, his wide, curious eyes seemed to glitter with an ancient resolution as his small hands curled into resolute fists.

"To expedite Mum's healing, it requires this strange crystal they mentioned," he grumbled softly in his mind, leaning his head against his little Titan hands. "I don't know why they reacted when the man mentioned the crystal is needed in abundance since Father is the Archon of the Nihilith Clan. Whatever be the reason, it's something I must gather for Mum's sake."

He was lost in this labyrinth of thought when a firm hand gripped him gently under his armpits. The old man, with movements as deliberate as the turning of seasons, lifted him off Zephyrion's arms. "We won't disturb you further," he said, placing Nyxander close to his chest. The rhythmic cadence of the old man's heart resonated against the boy's small frame.

"You watch over your wife while I take the time with Nyxander," Obsidar added, his voice high with a warmth that cut through the sternness with which he had been steadying himself. He raised Nyxander into the air, smiling with a softness that spoke in the same tones as the faint light of twilight pressing against a passing storm. The boy giggled softly as Obsidar stepped out of the room, leaving Zephyrion and Nihara to the quiet determination of their resolve.

"Now, you will learn how to call Grandpa," he said as he closed the door to the room, his voice a mixture of playfulness and command. Rubbing his nose against Nyxander's, he chuckled softly. "Now, say Gr.and.pa," he urged, his anticipation evident as his gaze locked on Nyxander's lips. But Nyxander, ever mischievous, didn't understand-he just played dumb, acting every inch the infant he looked.

"Okay, Grandpa will now give you a kiss on your forehead to prove his love for you," Obsidar declared, his tone rising with exaggerated affection. He moved in to give Nyxander's forehead a kiss, his shadow stretching long like a protective mantle. But before his lips could meet the Nyxander's forehead, Nyxander's Titan form shimmered faintly, shrinking to human baby size in a sudden, seamless transformation. He sprang with a sudden burst of agility from Obsidarian's hands and fled like a mouse through the chinks of a fortress wall.

The old man froze for a moment, his astonishment painted across his face like paint on drywall, before a loud exclamation would erupt from him. "Whaaat!" it echoed through the halls, shrill and sharp as a whistle slicing through a still night. It caught the attention of Zephyrion and Nihara, prompting Zephyrion to dash out of the room with alarm.

"What's wrong?" he asked tersely, his eyes scanning the room, alighting on the gaping cradle of Obsidar's hands. For a second, something flickered across his features, before his tone took on a note of rising urgency. "Where is Nyxander?" he asked, his eyes boring into Obsidar's face, as he read shock written into the set of his face.

"You don't tell me he can walk already. and it would appear he has his capability to shrink down under control. What is going on?" Obsidar said, his voice thick with both surprise and just a hint of betrayal.

"I didn't mean to keep that a secret. We only noticed recently," he confessed in an apologetically honest tone of voice, trying to lighten the situation. "There's no need for you to be alarmed; he is still within the castle walls," Zephyrion reassured Obsidar in a stable but hurried manner, turning immediately back to his wife. He left the older man to his thoughts and himself disappeared into the room, closing the door with determination behind him.

Meanwhile, Nyxander had slipped far from the bounds of the castle. His diminutive form darted through a labyrinth of corridors and performed the feat with as much surety as a river finding its course.

Reaching the boundaries of the castle, he encountered there the shimmering fabric of space-a protecting web so spun to guard against intrusion or escape. He hesitated but a moment before his will surged like a tidal wave. He pressed through the spatial barrier with a deft maneuver, instinctive ease bending the rules within his young mind.

Standing on the outskirts of the castle, he turned for a fleeting glance at the towering stronghold. The faint hum of its magical defenses buzzed in the air, but Nyxander's resolve was unshaken. Cloaked now in the dim light of the outside world, his small figure moved ahead with a determination well beyond his years.

The rustling wind whispered secrets to his steps as he walked in cadence, and his small frame quivered with the raw energy of a star ready to burst into being. The soft, undulating gait belied the enormity of his purpose. Small footsteps that moved him further away from the only sanctuary he had ever known.