The Primeval Era

Damian looked at Serala with eyes that still burned verdant blue.

She stood before him in her transformed state, twice the size she had been, primal beauty radiating from features that had been refined beyond mortal standards. The verdant tattoos marking her arms pulsed in rhythm with his own, evidence of a shared transformation.

He waved his hand toward her.

Mana surged from his palm, reaching out to touch her existence and draw back information about what she had become. The energy responded with the same enthusiasm it had shown when examining his own changes, eager to share knowledge about the being standing before him.

White words bloomed before his eyes.

|Entity Analysis: Serala.|

|Existential Classification: Primeval Human.|

|Lifeform Tier: Primeval Viridis.|

|Note: Subject was in physical contact with speaker during First Utterance of Exelissomai. Full Existential Evolution has been applied.|

|Primeval Viridis Qualities: Confirmed.|

|Lifespan: 10,000 years baseline.|

|Physique Capacity: Maximum of 9 Land and Sky Physiques.|

|Inherent Traits: Primeval Body, Primeval Mind, Decelerated Aging, Dermal Mana Armor, Inherent Mana Flight, Ancestral Resonance, Stone Communion, Beast Tongue.|

|All parameters match speaker’s elevation. No degradation or variance detected.|

So she had received everything he had received. The same lifespan. The same capacity for multiple Physiques!

The same inherent traits that set Primeval Viridis apart from the Common lifeforms they had both been moments ago. They were the same species now, if species was even the right word for what they had become.

Then a new notification appeared.

|Land and Sky Physique Manifestation Detected.|

|Note: Existential Evolution to Primeval Viridis has triggered spontaneous Physique awakening in subject Serala.|

|New Physique Acquired: Mantle of the First Sangoma.|

|Origin: This Physique belonged to the First Sangoma who walked the Lands of Stone when spirits and mortals shared the same paths. She was the bridge between worlds, the voice that spoke to what could not be seen, the healer who mended souls as easily as flesh. Her daughters across ages have carried fragments of her gift. Serala now carries its fullness.|

|Capabilities:|

|Ancestral Communion: Direct communication with spirits of the dead is now inherent. The veil between worlds is thin where you stand. Ancestors will answer when you call, and their wisdom will flow through you without resistance.|

|Spirit Weaving: You may conjure manifestations of Ancestral power into physical form. These Ancestral Shamanic Spells draw upon the accumulated knowledge of every Sangoma who has ever lived. Spells of binding, healing, revelation, and destruction are all accessible through proper invocation.|

|Soul Sight: The spiritual composition of all beings is visible to your perception. Curses reveal themselves. Demon seeds cannot hide. The health of souls is as apparent to you as the health of bodies.|

|Voice of the Veil: Words spoken with shamanic intent carry power that transcends normal communication. Commands can compel spirits. Blessings can heal wounds. Curses can wither flesh. The First Sangoma’s voice shaped reality, and so does yours.|

|Ancestral Armor: When threatened, spirits of protective Ancestors will manifest around you without conscious summoning. They will shield you with their essence and strike at those who mean you harm.|

...!

Damian stared at these words with shock that matched what he had felt when reading his own new capabilities.

Serala had gained the power of the First Sangoma. She could commune with Ancestors directly, could conjure spells from accumulated shamanic knowledge spanning ages, could see souls and speak with authority that reshaped reality itself. The Holy Daughter who had been raised to embody purity and peace now carried power that would make the greatest Shamans of the Lands of Stone weep with envy!

He shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

"Young Lugal..."

Uncle Adam’s voice cut through his contemplation, rough with concern that hadn’t faded since the pillar of green fire had knocked him backward. The old warrior was picking himself up from where he had fallen, his Fourth Circle cultivation having protected him from serious harm but not from the shock of what he had witnessed.

Grandmother Essun was staring upward with an entirely different expression.

Her sharp eyes shone with something approaching religious awe as she looked between Damian and Serala. Her mouth hung open in a way that would have seemed comical under different circumstances. When she finally found her voice, it emerged as barely more than a whisper that grew into a shout.

"Are you... are you really not an Ancestor?!"

She pointed at them with a trembling finger.

"You are beginning to look just like the Ancestors of legends!"

...!

The wise woman screamed this out with conviction that suggested she genuinely believed she might be addressing beings who had returned from the realm of the honored dead. Her knees looked ready to buckle. Her eyes refused to blink!

Damian was about to tell her no.

But his mind buzzed.

Something in her words had triggered a connection, had reminded him of information he had received during his assessment of his new capabilities. He thought back through the notifications, searching for the line that now demanded his attention.

Ancestral Resonance.

The trait had been listed among his inherent abilities, described as enhanced connection to Ancestral energies and more profound communion with Ancestor spirits. But there had been more at the very end, words he had glossed over in his rush to understand everything else.

Communion with Bloodline Ancestors is now feasible.

Communion with Bloodline Ancestors!

He thought of his father!

His heart began beating faster. His mind boomed with implications that crashed against his consciousness like waves against stone. He had been separated from his father and mother for eight summers. He had mourned without a body to bury, without ashes to honor, without any way to say goodbye or ask the questions that had haunted him across years of hiding.

But now...

Damian focused on this new body and what it could do. He focused on the Ancestral Resonance burning within his elevated existence. He focused on memories of his father, on the sound of his voice, on the weight of his presence, on the love that had never wavered despite the burdens of empire.

"Oh, Father."

The words emerged with emotion he couldn’t contain.

BOOM!

Power began gathering around him in patterns that felt ancient and inevitable. The air grew thick with Mana responding to intent. His verdant blue flames blazed brighter as something primal awakened within his elevated existence.

He spoke in The Old Tongue of the ancestors!

The words flowed from his lips without conscious thought, knowledge that had been locked away suddenly accessible to a being whose existence now resonated with ages before common speech existed. His Primeval Viridis nature granted him access to this ancestral language, this sacred method of calling upon those who had passed beyond!

"Ubaba wami, Amadlozi amakhulu!"

My father, Great Ancestor!

His voice rang across the garden with weight that pressed against reality itself.

"Ngifuna ukukubona futhi! Inhliziyo yami ikhala igama lakho!"

I wish to see you once more! My heart cries your name!

Serala’s wing-shaped pupils went wide with shock. She understood every word, her own elevated existence granting her the same access to the Old Tongue that now flowed through him. Her hands rose to cover her mouth as she realized what he was attempting.

Grandmother Essun fell to her knees.

The wise woman had spent her life learning fragments of the sacred language, piecing together meaning from partial phrases preserved in oral tradition. She couldn’t understand everything Damian was saying, but she understood enough. The words he spoke were invocations that hadn’t been uttered properly in generations. They were calls to the honored dead that most believed impossible outside of legend.

"Vula umnyango phakathi kwezwe! Ngivumele ngibonane nobaba wami!"

Open the door between worlds! Allow me to meet with my father!

HUUUUM!

A blinding verdant blue light shot from Damian’s body.

The beam surged upward, piercing through the clouds he still controlled, climbing toward heavens that seemed to lean down in response. The light carried his intent, his grief, his desperate need to see the man who had raised him one final time.

The sky began to change.

Verdant blue auroras formed where clear sky had been moments before, ribbons of light weaving together in patterns that belonged to sacred ceremonies rather than natural phenomena. They danced and shifted, gathering toward a central point directly above where Damian stood with tears he hadn’t noticed beginning to fall down his transformed cheeks.

And within those auroras, an outline began to emerge.

A figure took shape, features resolving from light and memory and the connection between a son who had never stopped mourning and a father whose love had not ended with death. The visage was distinguished, carrying the bearing of someone who had commanded the loyalty of millions. The expression was warm despite the majesty it radiated.

The glorious and majestic form of an Ancestor bloomed above the Cradle of First Flames.

Emperor Vakochev.

Zuku Vakochev!

His father.

Oh!

Damian stared upward at the apparition with eyes that burned and blurred. Eight summers of grief crashed against eight summers of rage, both overwhelmed by a single moment of impossible reunion. His transformed body felt suddenly small despite its expanded size, a child standing before a parent whose presence had never truly been replaced.

The aurora-formed visage of Emperor Vakochev looked down at his son!