Page 167 of The Ascended
"Well, I'm intrigued now. Continue, please."
"How polite you're being this morning," he teased, hand tracing delicate lines over the parchment.
"You haven't pissed me off yet." I smiled sweetly.
“It’s important to understand the dynamics of the Primordials to grasp how everything ultimately occurred.”
“I’m listening.” I said, biting my lip.
“While most Primordials existed in communion, Moros and Vivros had long ago separated themselves from the collective. Moros lurked in shadows. Vivros..." He paused. "Well, none of the texts pinpoint any specific location for Vivros. He simply couldn't be found. So most stopped looking."
“Why did they separate themselves?”
“Vivros was never particularly interested in ruling, or being a part of something bigger than himself. He preferred isolation,” Xül leaned against the desk. “At least, that is what I’ve gathered.”
“And Moros?”
Xül simply shook his head and drew a deep breath. "Moros was the weakest of the Primordials," he said, indicating a symbol that appeared darker than those surrounding it. A circle with a crack splitting it. "He isolated himself not because he preferred it, but because the darkest deeds are most efficiently enacted from the shadows. He had a thirst for power. For strength. A hunger that was never satisfied."
A chill traced its way down my spine.
"Do you know what Moros consumed most voraciously, starling?" He asked, eyes flickering up to meet mine.
I shook my head, unable to look away from his penetrating gaze.
"Memories," he said. "The very essence of experience, of identity. Of self."
"Memories?" I repeated, trying to force my mind to understand. "He... fed on them?"
"Like you might consume bread or wine," Xül confirmed. "But for Moros, it wasn't sustenance—it was power. The more he consumed, the more he became."
He gestured to different areas of the scroll, where the symbols seemed arranged in a hierarchy.
"Over centuries, Moros fed on the memories of the other Primordials. So subtle at first that they didn't notice what was happening. A missing moment here, a blurred recollection there. By the time they realized, it was too late—their minds were already half-devoured, their powers diminished by forgetting what they once were."
"He wanted to be the only one," I breathed. "To consume everything until nothing remained to challenge him."
"Yes. And in their weakened state, the Primordials turned to their descendants for help. But they had miscalculated."
The scroll showed smaller symbols clustered around the original thirteen.
"The Twelve saw opportunity where their creators saw salvation. And they struck—not against Moros, but against the rest of them."
I stared at him, my mouth dry. "You mean…the Twelve killed them?" The words felt impossible, yet they left my lips all the same.
"The war was devastating beyond comprehension," Xül said, his voice quiet but clear. "Even now, millennia later, the consequences of that betrayal ripple through the cosmos."
"Gods." It was all I could say.
"When most had fallen," he continued, rolling the scroll closed with careful hands, "only the two outliers remained. Moros and Vivros."
"Outliers," I repeated, catching the word.
"Brothers, if some legends are to be believed," Xül said. “Born from the same cosmic event.”
"So when the Twelve moved against the Primordials?—”
"Vivros wasn't present. Moros didn't care. Perhaps he'd even been counting on it." His smile was cold. "Vivros was unaware of the slaughter until it was over. It was only after the cosmic balance cracked that Moros turned his hunger toward his brother. The last source of primordial power left to consume."
