The Primordial Record - Chapter 2210 True Endless Essence

Chapter 2210  True Endless Essence

Before Eos left the throne, he took stock of what he had become.

His body, in the tenth dimension, was not constrained by the limitations that had defined every body he had previously worn.

The ninth-dimensional Primordial body, his Omniversal Titan’s form had been magnificent, capable of containing an infinite Origin Land, capable of surviving blows that unmade Realities, capable of projecting presence across the whole of Existence, but it had still been a body, in the sense that it had been a discrete thing with boundaries, located at a position, subject to the logic of having a shape.

Even when he took on his true form, having a flesh that was not flesh, when he disregarded the lie of his form, he still had a tangible shape that could be located across time and space.

However, the tenth-dimensional body was different.

It was still a body in the sense that an observer could see him and would see a figure, a man in a throne at the base of a vast tree, with a crown of depth and a face that had carried a hundred million years of war and was not defeated by any of it.

The figure was discrete, and it was a figure that had edges, could be spoken to, and would answer.

But underneath the figure, in the dimension that the observer could not see, the body was distributed.

It was in the throne. It was in the Tree. It was in the roots that drank from the substrate of the void. It was in every world on every branch. It was in the new Existence in the way the purpose of a thing is in the thing, not as a separate component that could be pointed to, but as the shape the thing was reaching toward in all of its aspects at once.

He was, in a sense, Existence. Not its ruler. Not its designer. It’s Telos. The thing it was all reaching toward in its long, slow unfolding.

Every life that would be born in the new Existence, every flower that would bloom on the Tree’s branches, every mortal who would love another mortal and build a small life and die at the end of it, all of them would be expressing some aspect of what Eos was, because Eos was the arrival that all of their becomings were reaching toward.

Even if he never revealed himself again, all life that would be born would always have a yearning for him, because they knew he was their ultimate purpose.

This was not arrogance. It was geometry. In the tenth dimension, the organizing principle of the space was purpose, and purpose had a shape, and Eos was the being who had arrived at that shape.

 Every Existence required a Telos, or it could not be an Existence. The old Existence had been broken because its Telos had been stolen and replaced with End’s hunger. The new Existence had a Telos that was genuinely its own. That Telos was Eos.

He found, when he looked inside this fact, that he was at peace with it.

A younger version of himself would have been terrified. Rowan the mortal miner, Rowan the dying prince, even the Eos who had first reached Primordial status, any of them would have recoiled from the weight of being the purpose of a whole Existence. They would have felt it as a burden, or as arrogance, or as the kind of pedestal that would inevitably topple.

But Eos was none of those men now. He was what they had all been reaching toward. And from this position, he could see that being the Telos of an Existence was not a burden. It was not arrogance. It was simply the job.

Every Existence needed a purpose; the purpose had to be located somewhere, and the mathematics of the situation had resolved, across a hundred million years of choices, in him. He had not sought the position. He had arrived at it.

He would do the work… That was all.

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The final part of himself that Eos checked was the essence that was now flowing through him in quantities that the Ether-language of before could no longer measure.

There was a time when he thought that his Ether was infinite, and now he realized how little he knew of the higher dimensions.

While Ether was infinite, that was only in the ninth dimensional level, now that he was in the tenth, his vast Ether was just a shallow pool in comparison to what was now flowing through his body.

He did not try to measure it. Measurement was a thing you did to resources; this was not a resource. It was a state. As long as he remained who he was, as long as he continued to be the Telos at which this Existence was arriving, the Essence would flow, because the flow was just the Existence doing what Existence did.

This was what true infinite essence meant. He would always have as much as he needed.

He could feel the Essence in everything. It was in the roots of the Tree. It was in the void. It was in the small child shape of his last Incarnation that Prime was, at this moment, carrying out of End, though Eos could not yet feel the return, because Prime and the others had not yet crossed back through the nothingness. But he could feel the place where they were. He could feel the shape of Vraegar’s patience, the shape of Fury’s banked storm, the shape of Circe’s long-held silence about her dreams.

He could feel, distantly, the quality of wrongness in the small child that Prime was carrying.

He noted it, but he did not act on it. The wrongness was small and quiet and might yet prove to be nothing more than the damage of eternities of captivity, damage that could be healed.

Eos would not pre-judge it. When the child returned, he would see the child, and he would know, in the honest way that Telos-sight knew things, what had become of the hope he had sent into the dark.

Whatever the answer was, he would meet it. That, too, was the job.

He stepped away from the throne.

In the tenth dimension, everything that he saw was new, and so he had to be a bit careful, due to the weight every single one of his decisions carried.

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