[VOLUME 16: THE FIRES OF GENESIS][ARC 4: THE PILLARS OF GENESIS]
Agony was a lack of precision.
As Elara Vance plummeted into the sea of liquid gold and violet code, the concept of "self" didn't just dissolve; it was violently dismantled. Every nerve ending in her body felt as though it were being threaded through a needle made of lightning.
She wasn't just Elara anymore. She was a frequency.
"Breathe, little anchor," the maternal echo of the First Creator whispered, her voice resonating from inside Elara's very marrow. "The world is ancient, and its veins are dry. You must become the blood."
Elara tried to scream, but her lungs were no longer filled with air. They were filled with the history of Pangea. She felt the searing heat of the Abyssal magma chambers in her gut. She felt the freezing, crystalline winds of the Heavenly peaks in her lungs. The tectonic plates of the merged continent ground together, and she felt it in the alignment of her own spine.
