Chapter 11: Primas

  That day, every corner of the world heard a proclamation. It was not spoken in any known language. In fact, calling it a language doesn’t quite capture its essence.

  It felt like a god’s decree. Every being—sentient or not, terrestrial or aquatic, animal or plant—had those words branded into their very being, as if they were an unquestionable truth.

  In each of what they could call memories, a vision appeared: a towering pillar of flame howling with primal cries. It carried the aura of rebellion, yet also radiated warmth and comfort.

  “I, Eva Elandra Prima, now bestow upon thee the name of Ash Ifrit Prima.”

  Next came:

  “I, Eva Elandra Prima, now bestow upon thee the name of Aron Marid Prima.”

  This time, the vision was of waves crashing against cliffs and flooding beaches—evoking the fear and curiosity of an infinite, suffocating depth.

  And finally:

  “I, Eva Elandra Prima, now bestow upon thee the name of Uriela Hinn Prima.”

  No image followed this one. Just an aura—wild, free, and filled with the desire for adventure.

  Those names were forever etched into the subconscious of all living beings in that era. The feelings associated with them would influence the very course of evolution.

  So, how did this happen?

  Simple. Eva, while sharing her life force with the entirety of the world, forgot to sever the connection with her main body. Since she was already having simultaneous conversations with countless beings, she didn’t think much of it.

  In a sudden moment of inspiration (or perhaps impulse), she decided to bestow names upon her new friends—names drawn from various kinds of jinn like Ifrit, Marid, and Hinn, which conveniently matched their personalities. She considered calling herself "Jann," but rejected the idea because, in her words, “Eva Jann Prima sounds lame.” As for the surname “Prima,” it came from a desire to belong—to finally be part of a group.

  Truth be told, she intended it all as a joke. A dramatic proclamation for a good laugh before asking them what they actually wanted to be called.

  But something went wrong—or right, depending on how you look at it.

  Her words resonated across the world like a divine edict. And now, her over-the-top naming ceremony has become a foundational truth in the minds of all living things.

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  To outsiders, it was a sacred moment.

  To those in the know? Just very awkward.

  Ash’s POV:

  Everything happened so fast that none of us could form a coherent thought for quite a while.

  The silence was deafening. The atmosphere? Awkward as hell.

  After a long, uncomfortable minute, I finally broke the silence.

  “Do you have a body somewhere that I can beat up?”

  She replied, deadpan.

  “Unfortunately, even if I did, you don’t have the body composition necessary to beat me.”

  Silence again.

  “Are you really going to ignore the other two names just now?”

  “Yes. If they were interesting enough to meet you, then I’ll meet them eventually. I don’t like spoilers… So what now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we talk? Share experiences or something?”

  “Didn’t you say you were just a few hours old? What kind of experiences could you possibly have?”

  “I just saved the world from being devoid of life.”

  “Pretty sure you did that by accident. Or instinct. You don’t seem like the type to act before thinking.”

  “I also have other memories, even if they’re not completely mine,” she said, not even bothering to argue.

  That’s when I started to understand what kind of entity Eva really was. As she explained it, she was a “guardian spirit of the world.” A being born from the desire to preserve life. She also possessed fragments of memories from countless beings—sentient or not, some even dating back to the first fish.

  Not that those memories were all that useful.

  It reminded me of the time I absorbed the memories of mosquitoes. I shared that with her, and she called it something like “devouring souls,” which... actually made sense.

  We talked for hours—about history, psychology, biology. She may not have been the smartest person I’d met, but she inherited the memories of some of the greatest minds in history. She had secondhand experiences of the most impactful events in our world.

  She even explained what happened during my month of evolution. Only about 7.6 million humans survived the string of catastrophes that hit the surface. That might sound like a lot, but it means more than 99.9% of humanity perished. She scolded me for being biased toward humans, but I can’t help it—I was one myself.

  As the conversation continued, I grew used to the name “Ash.” It was branded into my soul anyway, so there was no point in fighting it. And honestly? I liked the idea of the “Primas.” It wasn’t some grand destiny—just a group of strange, friendly beings. Probably the closest thing to a family for Eva.

  As the hours passed, I noticed her responses getting shorter. She was clearly getting tired. After all, she’d been working nonstop for almost half a day—sharing life force with the world, absorbing memories, and fixing problems.

  Still, with my help, we managed to find and implement a viable solution to purify the air, which was crucial to preserving life. Sadly, there wasn’t much we could do about the toxic clouds in the sky, other than making the living stronger.

  Time was running out.

  Eva needed to rest, to recover her energy and process the mountain of memories.

  Before she left, she gave me a “small” gift—not just to me, but to all members of the Primas.

  In return, I gave her the only thing a flame could offer: fire.

  But this fire was unlike any other. It would never die, because it was fueled by every memory I had of my previous name. I learned how to create it during our conversation. It was more symbolic than anything else—a gesture of acceptance. A way of saying: I embrace my new self.

  And then, she was gone.

  I was alone again.

  But this time, there was no darkness. No sense of isolation.

  Because I wasn’t alone.

  I was one of her Primas.