I Hate....

With every breath he took, the damaged Chamberd slowly healed, and the bleeding from Knowledge Well gradually eased as it began to remake itself anew, what he had been forging would have killed hundreds of gods and Archmages with the mental load, but Rowan could mend.

That portion of his gifts would never leave him. He could heal even from death, and soon if he succeeded and ascended a few more Circles, then death would become a footnote he would be leaving far behind, his troubles would now be different.

Yet even while he rested, the remnants of his consciousness did not stop exploring the possibilities he now had access to as a Nascent Primordial. His Empyrean Sight was slowly transforming and Rowan knew that sooner or later it would become Primordial Sight.

Like an immature limb, his broken consciousness waded through space, time, and matter. Every moment was a learning opportunity for him.