Below the two Primordials, the Origin Realm of Spatial Harmony was already drowning. The Necroflores had taken root in their floating continents, their forests of bone and screaming flesh spreading like cancer. The Chronophages coiled through their dimensional clusters, aging stars to cold death in seconds, reducing civilizations to dust before they could even cry out. And everywhere, everywhere, the Soulwraiths drifted, drinking the memories of a realm that had been peaceful for a hundred million years.
With every moment that passes, trillions are dying. This number was hard for a mortal mind to comprehend, as the scale of it was too vast for them to fully know its significance, but a Primordial was able to comprehend every single life that was passing away, and the pain of it was breaking their hearts.
"You will rebuild it," Eva said. "When this is over. Everything that is taken away from us would be returned a thousand times over."
