The darkness was broken by the red flas surrounding his left arm, painting the surroundings with the color of blood. The surrounding darkness fled away from the fla with a weird sigh.
Rowan looked at his hand that was still burning, and fed more vitality to the flas, making it brighten and spread its lights to encompass the entire room, since his Spatial Sight was hampered inside this facility, he had to use his senses more often.
He activated his Energy sight and imdiately began picking spots of latent energy, and noticed that the power flowing through the cables had been cut off.
Picking up the Axe, he proceeded to the next room. It was more of the sa, empty ports, and silent halls, and the Vestibularies he saw had no more body parts.
That ended when he saw a broken Vestibulary, where the smoldering body of a person beside it. The person was clutching a lted piece of tal that Rowan assud they used to break open the Vestibulary.
Strangely, the armor worn by this person should be made of bones, for he saw that there was no tallic component among the ashes he left behind.
Hovering inside the broken Vestibulary was a heart that was impaled with a rib bone. The heart was black like marble with red streaks running through it, every now, and then it would spew out red flas like an erupting volcano, and without the shielding of the Vestibulary, the air around was shimring, and the floor was turning red.
This whole facility was built with Davross alloy, which should be extrely heat-resistant. Yet, the heat was beginning to lt the floor.
This heart that hovered before him, which appeared to be made up of flas and black rock, was attuned towards energy. Rowan could not help but compare it to his present heart before it was transford into a void.
He still sensed the familiarity with this heart also, and as he got closer to the heart, the flas that it spewed transford into a golden Soul fla.
There was no conscious thought that made him open his burning hand and stretched it forth. The burning heart ca to rest on his palm, and the flas that were burning in his hand turned golden, this was surprising, as he did not know that the Flesh Light of the Abomination could mimic Soul Fla.
Although there were slight differences, this was indeed Soul Fla, and he discovered that this fla was pure, without any fluctuations within, and even though it lacked destructive capabilities, this sort of fla may have many hidden uses.
The heart slowly turned to ash in his palm, and without any soul fla to mimic, the Flesh Light returned to its red form as Rowan braced himself for the wave of Soul Energy and the mories it would bring.
As Rowan sank into the darkness, he heard a voice, and he soon beca aware of what was taking place.
"What do you think of this painting?"
He was inside the body of a short-haired man, the hands of the man were wrapped in chains and heavy manacles that clasped tight over his wrist and legs.
The chains gave out a faint silver glow that increased its weight, making each link in the chain easily weigh above a thousand tons.
The chains were very restrictive, and he could barely move, the man stood by a dark green painting that depicted a young boy being eaten by his shadow.
The countenance of the wailing boy was a picture of fear and despair, the mouth of his shadow eating him contained long fangs, and it had seized the hair of the boy with such force that part of his scalp was bleeding, tufts of his blond hair were falling like rain.
The short-haired man brought his fingers to trace the lines of fear in the boy's face, he lingered around the mouth of the boy, as if he was listening to the sounds of his screams. The painting's description of a dood soul was so vivid it resembled a portal to another reality. A still mont of madness.
The voice behind the man began speaking again, after not getting any response.
"I believe It could an many things. But this picture explains itself with a rather singular narrative. You should be very familiar with this image, don't you, Vorsher the Fallen." The voice had a flavor of mockery coloring its tone.
The voice seed to trigger the chained man, and he turned away from the painting,
"Fallen?" He chuckled and shifted his position. He adjusted his hand, the manacles holding them were heavy and whenever he lifted his hands they dragged at him.
"Your people were beset by monsters on all sides, and I took it upon myself to stand before your destruction. And paying with my blood, I saved you all from a sure death. I ask for nothing from you, but you intend to kill ."
"Kill you? Surely, you jest Vorsher. Whatever gave you that idea that we would kill you?"
"Oh, I don't know." Vorsher growled, "maybe it's because you have chained for weeks while draining my blood, or the lust for my power that I see in the eyes of your people."
The voice was quiet for a while, before replying in a wry tone, "Nothing gets over your head, does it?"
"Eehh, This one is pretty obvious. But still, I hold nothing against you. I know the value of my bloodline. Even though you won't be able to replicate our Pathway, it would boost your own to an enormous degree."
"Important things are said twice. I don't hold this matter against you. This world is hard enough and everyone struggles to survive in whichever ways they can. Even killing your savior."
Vorsher sighed, his words grew in strength, "But I cannot die now, I have given too much for you to take my life. My mother is in pain. I did what I had to do to save her. I have to rescue her from her torture and I implore you, to let leave, and I promise you on my na, that I would not co back for revenge."
"Oh Vorsher, Champion of Myrrah. This world does not deserve you. Don't you know what the gods call your people now… Abominations"
A black hand holding a pair of shears ca to his vision. The arm ruthlessly pushed the blade into his stomach, and began to aggressively stab, again and again.
The voice began to giggle, "I love my work!"
Rowan focused on the painting again, the ruby blood from the scalp of the dood boy reflected the face of Vorsher. He was not flinching in pain, instead he was mouthing words: "Do not forget. This world betrayed her first."
Rowan's grip on this lost mory was weakening, his heart was in chaos. All these mories were pointing to a terrifying possibility. He noticed that the shears that killed Vorsher were etched with the symbol, Three.
Also, it appeared that Vorsher was not human, but the champion of an Abomination Core, Myrrah. It was laughable that Rowan had never thought the Primordial Record would have reached non-human hands, but that should not be such a strange thing, after all, the hint was in the na of the black book–Primordial.
It must have existed for an extrely long ti. Rowan wanted to view the figure behind Vorsher once more, although his instinct was screaming against it, he decided to risk the attempt.
He pushed his perception to see behind Vorsher, straining to catch what was behind him, barely seeing a shadow before he was expelled from the vision.
Opening his eyes, he saw that the darkness had deepened, and now it was bringing with it, a chill that made his breath form mist in front of him, reminding him that he had barely any clothes on his body.
Rowan gritted his teeth and pushed more vitality into the Flesh Light, the flas rose, banishing the darkness and there was a sizzling sound in the air and there was a sll of burning flesh as if the darkness were alive.
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