“Primal” has always thrived on contrast - life and death, serenity and savagery, instinct and intelligence. Season 3, Episode 2 leans fully into that duality, opening not with bloodshed, but with quiet, almost sacred calm. Before monsters rise and violence erupts, the episode reminds us what this world looks like when it is allowed to breathe.
We begin in a lush meadow where strange, antelope-like creatures graze peacefully. A newborn feeds from its mother as she gently cleans it, a small act of care that feels deeply intimate. Birds perch casually on the animals’ backs, pecking away without fear, while a rodent scurries through the grass, making use of what nature has provided. This is Primal’s thesis; every creature has a place, every life a purpose, the ecosystem hums in perfect, fragile balance and then instinct screams.
Birds explode into the air, the rodent flees, the herd bolts without hesitation. None of them sees the threat at first, but they feel it. Something wrong is coming. Something broken. Something that does not belong.
Spear emerges!
This is not the Spear we once knew, this is a version hollowed out by death and driven forward by memory fragments he barely understands. Zombie Spear doesn’t hunt these animals. He doesn’t even acknowledge them. His movements are clumsy but determined, guided by something deeper than thought. He is walking toward a past that refuses to stay buried.
Though the episode contains no dialogue, the storytelling remains crystal clear. Flickers of memory flash through Spear’s mind; visions of his former life, of Fang, of the family he lost. These aren’t coherent thoughts; they’re emotional impulses pulling him across landscapes as the background dissolves and reforms around him. Forest fades into wasteland. Green gives way to sand. Time itself feels fluid, as though the world is rearranging itself to test him.
Eventually, that test arrives in the form of a pure nightmare.
From beneath the desert erupts a colossal sand-dwelling beast, a living force of destruction that feels ripped straight from legend. The creature moves like the land itself is attacking, swallowing space and threatening to erase Spear entirely. Instead of retreating, Spear charges, proving something surprising in the process. His body may be decaying, but it still remembers how to fight. He runs. He leaps! At one point, he even drops to all fours, galloping with an animalistic fury that feels both terrifying and triumphant.
Spear is thrown, crushed, battered; yet somehow, he survives, and more importantly, he learns. When the sandworm attacks again later, Spear doesn’t rush headlong into danger. This time, he pauses. He thinks. He climbs a tree and waits for the monster to pass.
It’s a small moment, but it’s monumental....Zombie Spear is evolving!
The evolution becomes undeniable during the episode’s most haunting sequence. Exhausted, wounded, and slipping between consciousness and delirium, Spear experiences a vision. He sees himself not the monster he has become, but the living man he once was. The two versions stand facing one another, connected by the spear that defined him.
When zombie Spear reaches out and touches the weapon, memory floods back in full force. Flames consume both figures as Spear remembers his true death from Season 2; it is a mind rebuilding itself from ashes.
Against all odds, this creature can still think; that spark of awareness is tested almost immediately. As night falls, Spear notices glowing eyes in the darkness. For a brief, heartbreaking moment, hope flickers across his face. Could it be Fang? Could his family finally be near? The illusion shatters instantly.
We then witnessed a chaotic battle against an entire pride; they attacked with speed and precision, overwhelming Spear and tearing into him mercilessly. Blood spills freely, and for a moment, it seems impossible that he’ll survive. But then memory intervenes again. Spear spots a human skeleton nearby, clutching a blade.
With grim resolve, Spear arms himself and turns the tide. The fight escalates into a violent crescendo, ending with the lions being driven into the water, where many meet a tragic end. Even in victory, there is no triumph. The lions were not villains. They were defending their territory, acting on instinct, just like the animals at the episode’s beginning.
The symmetry is devastating. The episode begins with life in harmony and ends with blood staining the water, both moments are equally true to this world. Both are Primal.
Beyond the action, the episode continues to impress through meticulous animation. Zombie Spear’s movements are intentionally imperfect; his eyes don’t blink in sync, his posture wavers, his guttural sounds feel half-formed. These details sell the tragedy of what he has become while subtly charting his return to awareness. Even when rocks crash into his face or mountains rise before him, Spear presses forward, unyielding.
The score by Tyler Bates and Joanne Higginbottom deserves special praise; the music doesn’t dictate emotion, it amplifies atmosphere, allowing silence and sound to work in tandem. Every note feels earned.
By the episode’s end, one question lingers heavier than ever - how long until Fang appears? And when she does, will Spear be ready to face her, not as the man he was, but as the creature he is becoming?
“Kingdom of Sorrow” doesn’t rush toward answers. Instead, it asks us to sit with loss, memory, and survival. It reminds us that even in death, instinct endures and sometimes, thought follows.
Primal remains a masterclass in visual storytelling, proving once again that words are optional when emotion is this powerful.
Read more: Primal Animation
