The Primordial - Part 7
They finally find a clear view of the vast and shallow crater. It is filled with clouds of dust yet to settle, and pervaded with flashes of light traveling across in whirlwinds of golden strings of energy; everything is anchored around a small, irresistible blue dot. Above them, a hole in the coat of clouds is still sizzling from the day before.
“She made it” Bloom’s words are soothing and colored by a smile. Adrian and Askia are still looking up, mesmerized by what was once mundane, their mouths half open. Bloom steps onto the crater and towards the haze, the other two follow at their own time. “Yes!” Lady Bellerose’s excitement comes late but true: “We are here. The Comet is here. The Primordial is not.” With a wave of her hand she sends a breeze ahead to direct the dust out of the way. Adrian inspires deeply and calls upon all of his aggressiveness to hold a tear.
Meanwhile, a dozen kilometers away, The Primordial is frantically stomping its way forward, driven completely mad by the life force of The Comet. Ahead of It, at a calculated distance, Carmilla is one with Nature, flowing fast down the river bed. The water around her is sweet, but lifeless. She remembers when she would go play in the creek near her house and her mother would tell her to be careful, that it is full of wild animals and not all of them want to play pirates with a wild little girl. She was wrong, they all wanted to play. A veil of memories falls softly over her eyes.
When she sobers up she realizes that the river around her has become incredibly spacious all of a sudden, and that below her there is a pit of depth phenomenal. She swims down swiftly, something’s there to see. The girl is seduced, she knows, but doesn’t know, or doesn’t want to know. She sinks gracefully to the bottom of the small abyss.
There, luminescent river mints hide rare and undisturbed.
Leaves like snowflakes, and roots trickling down the rocks like tiny glowing rapids. Letters are words, are verses on a boulder.
Under the turquoise ring
Flowers bloom to say farewell.
Nature’s great encore.
Carmilla floats hypnotized, her long black hair swaying in the depth of the water. They move in coils composing an elaborate and ephemeral crown.
She snaps when everything around her starts shaking. It’s The Primordial catching up. She turns to take a last look at the poem, but it’s gone. She springs up towards the surface and gets up there just in time to dodge one of The Primordial’s abominable limbs. She rushes ahead to secure some distance.