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 The world as he knows it, is ending. For a second time. The first time his world ended, he had never heard of Helovia. Did not even know that a dimension other than his world, the Rift, could possibly exist. And yet, he had been cast from the Rift into Helovia through a swirling vortex of a portal created amid terrible chaos. The sky had boiled black and electricity crackled in the air. His decision to enter that portal depended largely on two things: either he could die in the Rift at the mercy of a very angry god (most probably a horribly slow and painful death), or, he could risk an equally slow and horrible death by leaping through the unknown entity of the portal after Ultima. He chose the latter. And he did survive. But many did not. He did not know if it was different this time. But he could feel it in the air, again, the stunning energy of a portal opening somewhere. It felt familiar, like an old friend. It did not feel like random energy, it smelled and tasted of the chaos of the Rift. Could the portal connecting the Rift to Helovia possibly open once more? He had thought Ultima had caused the portal that had whipped them through time and space like a fleeting, shooting star, but perhaps all this time, he had been mistaken. Perhaps Ultima was not the key to returning home after all. He had to find the opening. Luckily, when the world is seemingly ending, most everyone notices it, and some even know the source. He follows the fleeing residents like a shadow, not filled with terror like most, but rather curious and hopeful. This world did not suit him. He belonged in the Rift, where other monsters like him dwelled. In his hurried flight towards the source of chaos (he could now see a great entity and something like the semblance of a battle), he passed many who fled the opposite direction. Some stood their ground. Others wandered aimlessly, uncertain of the future and which fate to choose. Some faces he recognized from the early days of his arrival in Helovia, but most he did not. He did not stop to help anyone, or anything. He certainly had no intentions to participate in a godly battle. He knew all too well how those ended, and had no desire to repeat the past. He could see a figure swathed in blinding light struggling against the power of the angry, ethereal force causing the chaos. The portal would close soon! He had no more time to waste. With his silver pup dangling from his mouth, he made a mad dash for the portal, for home. He leapt through the fighting and ethereal light and chaos and screaming and death, closing his eyes and hoping with all his might that he would return to the world of monsters, where he belonged. |
these scars long have yearned for your tender caress
to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.
