Stepping forward in response to the god sphere's provocation, a veiny chill breezes through and past Rowan's neck, prickling his skin and forcing a broad shudder to gallop across his body, the ends of his hair stiffening.
The room's silence was deafening, a quiet ring crawling along the edges of his ears, tickling his earlobes as it squirmed to make contact with his brain.
His heart's measured tempo fell apart as its thundering echoes impacted against his ribcage, the sensation of bursting forcing him to clench his chest with one hand.
As each pace took him closer and closer to the god sphere, Rowan felt his heart's pummels strengthen in potency, the throbbing pain forcing him to wince ever so slightly.
It wasn't until he was just a few steps away from the god sphere that he was finally able to let go of his chest, his surroundings now black and his hearing gone.
Rowan's guts pitched upwards, frantically searching for his surroundings as he lost sight of which way was down. He dipped into a free fall, the ground sizzling out from under him as he yelled out in shock.
It was only after a few seconds of flying off into the abyss that his descent ceased, his face flopping down from the sudden shift in momentum.
"What the hell is this?" He inquired, linear lips and furrowed brows plastered on his face.
Rowan felt a sweat run down along his nape, the sensation of heat etching a sharp dichotomy to the previous sensory deprivation that'd first incurred his confusion.
Rowan awkwardly fluttered his arms and legs, twisting his body inch by inch to the opposite direction.
After struggling for a couple seconds, he could barely discern a large, winged beast in the corner of his eyes.
As he finally twisted his torso facing the gnarly beast, his vision grew dreary, the sudden shock from such a towering figure relinquishing his lucidity.
Rowan closed his eyes, rubbing them to make sense of reality.
Parting his eyelids, he refocused his vision to again look on at the beast, the creature's details even more vivid than before.
It seemed to have been gutted and mutilated, a gaping wound in its stomach revealing its innards just barely obfuscated by black, hardened blood.
A putrid green peeked through Rowan's mouth, washing over his tongue to remind him of the acidic aftertaste of bile.
His hands compelled to reach for his mouth, Rowan fought through the building pressure that made his cheeks stick out, gulping down his puke while biting back his gag reflex.
Rowan wiped away the remaining liquid on his lips, his sleeves--tattered by the flying sparks of Kaia's flames--just barely getting the job done.
There were a number of smaller cuts running across its chest, arms, legs, and face, all far less gnarly than the cavity in its stomach.
It had two overbearing protrusions from its back, most likely having been wings had they not been clipped and marked in the same darkened red that ran along the rest of its wounds.
In one of its mangled hands laid a large sword, inscriptions similar to the ones in the grimoire circling the handle and lining the blade.
Rowan looked on at the creature's face, immediately forming the thought that describing it as a beast was a little incorrect, ignoring its ridiculous size.
There was snow white hair raining down from its scalp, a chiseled jaw and well-mannered face painting the serene picture of angelic beauty, seen only in fictions.
"You..." the big creature spat out, his eyes gaping open to reveal pure blue eyes that somehow managed to reflect light in the infinite gloom.
Red drops as large as three-story tall buildings spat out from its mouth at blistering speeds, surely having broken the sound barrier had there been air in this realm.
Rowan flinched, horrified by the deep groans of the ghastly thing and its flying spit and blood.
One drop whizzed just a few feet from Rowan, surely having turned him into a puddle of red had it connected.
Rowan's already horrified expression was now one of terror, his mouth hanging wide as he stood frozen by pure fear.
The towering creature's finger twitched, its hold on the blade loosening. It consequently reached for its own face, lifting the back of its hand towards itself.
The creature was... wiping away its spit, puckering his lips as if he were an old lady fixing themselves in a powder room.
"What are you..." Rowan asked, fear still hammering away at his bones.
"What am I... hah, how ironic coming from you! Let me give you one better: What are you?" The creature retorted, amusement peeking through his hollow expression by the ever so slight crease in his lower lip.
Rowan's mouth twitched and then balked in surprise, the words clinging to the back of his throat but just barely holding themselves back from escaping through the trembling of his lips, like an annoying tonsil stone unwilling to dislodge.
"Ah, I see, it must be my current appearance, huh? Don't worry about me, I acclimated to the pain around a thousand years after I was trapped in this shoddy work of Kaido--sorry, barrier arcana."
The creature was now fully embracing his unseriousness, his eyes closed while grinning ear to ear.
Rowan, caught off guard by the sharp contrast between the creature's mutilated appearance yet light-hearted conversation, smiled in response, a bout of laughter breaking loose from his gut.
"Hey, why are you laughing?" The creature questioned, now concerned in his facial expression with eyes vying for an answer.
"Hah ha ha! It's not you, it's just that when I first saw you, I thought you were going to eat me alive or something -- brrgghhhh!"
The sudden shift in pressure forcefully expelling the air in Rowan's lungs, the creature grabbed him with his thumb and index finger, inching Rowan closer to his face.
The creature's lips parted to reveal the cavernous extremities of his teeth and mouth, red plastered in the gaps between his canine teeth.
"You know, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea."
The creature grinned, its serrated teeth shimmering under the nonexistent light, pure glee trickling through every gnarled inch of his battered frame.
"Relax, little one. I don't eat guests. Anymore." It mused, a light chuckle escaping its chest.
Rowan's body froze up, his stomach crumpling into itself as the beast-thing's warm breath caressed his face, its scent a putrid mixture of iron and scorched leather.
"Wh-what even are you..."
The creature's chuckle rumbled through the dark like rolling boulders, its mutilated wings shifting as if to catch a wind that wasn't there.
"Names first. I am Selzahar. Though, once, I was called something far grander. That time's passed now--a good time, it was."
His voice dimmed, becoming almost somber before snapping back with a tilt of his head and a disarming grin that didn't reach his hollow eyes.
"Selzahar..." Rowan muttered, trying to wrap his head around the absurdity.
"Yes, yes," Selzahar mused, "and you, you're something rather... unique."
Rowan's chest tightened as Selzahar's eyes traced him with a scrutinizing glint, as if peeling back skin, digging through bone, searching for something underneath the meat.
"Not many humans come here, you know," Selzahar continued, his tone layered with an indistinguishable humor, "or should I say, not many... things...? Beasts...? Whatever it is you are."
There was a flicker in his voice--an almost imperceptible contempt, a thread of loathing that lingered just beneath the surface.
Rowan blinked, confusion muddling the terror that gripped his gut. But Selzahar moved on, feigning ignorance to the weight of his words.
"I was the one who brought you here," Selzahar said with a great dramatic flair, sweeping his mangled hand through the void. "You see, I get very, very bored sitting inside that stupid orb all day."
Rowan's brow furrowed. "Orb?"
Selzahar grinned wider, if such a thing were possible, his sharp canines flashing.
"Yes, the 'god sphere,' as those meatbags call it. It's me."
Rowan staggered back, slipping on the non-existent floor beneath him, his arms flailing wildly.
"Y-you're the god sphere?!"
"In the raw, baby," Selzahar cackled, tapping his chest with a massive finger, sending little splashes of coagulated blood from his gut wound into the void.
Rowan's mind reeled. How could something so wretched, so grotesque, be the same divine entity the king worshiped like a holy relic?
"But... why bring me here?" Rowan managed to spit out.
Selzahar's expression darkened, the humor dying out of his face like a candle snuffed by unseen winds.
"Because you're broken," he said, voice low and reverent. "Just like me."
There it was again. That sting of hatred. Not at Rowan directly, but at the world, the circumstance, maybe even at existence itself.
Rowan's throat closed up. He wanted to shout at Selzahar, to deny it, to scream that he wasn't broken, that he was normal--but deep down, he knew that wasn't true.
"You're not like the others," Selzahar murmured. "You're something different. Something forgotten."
Rowan clutched at his arms, suddenly feeling cold, the creature's words latching onto the fractures in his soul, prying them open with wicked fingers.
"I don't know what you mean," Rowan said, though even he could hear the hollowness in his voice.
Selzahar laughed again, softer this time, like a father amused by a child's clumsy lie.
"You will," he promised. "In time."
The beast flicked his wrist lazily, and Rowan felt the floor buck and writhe beneath him.
"Now," Selzahar grunted, his voice almost tender yet sharp at the edges, "go back. Play their little game. Take the grimoire."
"Wait, wh--"
Before Rowan could finish, a massive hand swatted the air--and him--sending him spiraling backward into the abyss, his stomach lurching, the edges of his vision blurring until--
Whump!
Rowan slammed back into existence, stumbling into the throne room on shaky legs. The throne room's light, though dim, pierced his senses like jagged glass.
The others stared at him, expressions ranging from concern to impatience. Kaia tilted her head, her lips pursed. Elias crossed his arms. Liora watched with a glint of unreadable interest.
The god sphere--now still and golden once more--hummed.
"Present your hand," the king commanded, his voice clipped but not unkind.
Rowan numbly lifted his hand. As he did, a soft whirring noise echoed, and before him, a grimoire descended from the sphere's center.
It was an unhindered white.
Unlike the others', it bore no crest, no gleaming sigil, no ornate embroidery.
The book landed in Rowan's hands with a dead weight, like a brick, its surface chillingly smooth.
He flipped it open.
Nothing.
Page after page after page of pure white.
No symbols. No runes. No inscriptions. No diagrams. No blessings.
Just silence, stretched out and bound in leather.
Murmurs trickled through the throne room like water through cracks.
"Is it broken?" someone whispered.
"Maybe he's defective..." another muttered, just loud enough for Rowan to hear.
Even the king furrowed his brow, the first crack in his otherwise composed demeanor.
Rowan felt the heat crawl up the back of his neck, shame clutching his heart like a vice.
But deep inside--deeper than the shame, deeper than the fear--there was something else.
A strange, unfamiliar hum.
A pulse.
Rowan closed the grimoire.
And it thrummed in his hand--once, a heartbeat, raw and potent.
He tucked it under his arm, saying nothing.
"Well," the king announced, trying to mask the slight unease in his voice, "that marks all four--five of you heroes. With that, I believe it is high time I explain to you your future happenings in this world."
Rowan stepped back into line, his white grimoire pressed tightly against his chest, the whisper of something long-buried scratching at the edges of his mind.
And somewhere, in the depths of the god sphere, Selzahar watched, a crooked smile pulling at his mutilated lips.