Eos had felt Rowan die as if he were the one dying, and, technically, this was true; he had just died. But he had died so many times, who had the time to be counting?
"Ah, my sweet boy, dying should never be normal."
Eos flinched when he felt the voice of his mother touch his heart, and he stopped his struggle to tear himself from the frail cage that held his body. This voice should not have had the power to touch his mind with his perfect control over the dimension of Memory, and Eos could easily trace it to the most likely suspect… the Primordial Record.
"Cheeky bastard," Eos growled and closed his eyes. The Primordial Record had not forgotten that Eos had ripped it away from his body and placed it inside an Incarnation, and now, instead of returning to him, it was sending visions of his mother to torment its stubborn host.
