The Ancestral Codex loomed before me, a humongous cluster of cubic structures, each one rotating slowly around its own axis.
They did not seem to creak, nor did their turns betray resistance; they simply moved, eternal and unyielding, as if their very motion had become part of the natural order.
They were undeterred by the vastitudes of life, unbothered by time itself. Though their appearance was metallic, not a single tinge of rust clung to their surface. Instead, their skin glistened faintly, smooth and reflective like tempered obsidian.
But it wasn't their sheer presence alone that commanded awe. What demanded reverence were the countless murals etched deep into their surfaces, gouged an inch into the cubes.
Every face of every cube carried history and mystery. There, under the unimaginable weight of the ocean, in the very lowest layer of the ocean floor where sunlight had never dared to trespass, they stood—silent, colossal, majestic.
