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Soooooooo…

I very much intentionally, with sound mind and full thought and definitely full intention – did I mention that? – deliberately pulled the pin out of my smoke grenade. Because you are only supposed to handle these if you are going to use them.

Now, in my favor, these aren’t the exploding exploding kinds. But the shell definitely splinters apart, cause I only need them in dire situations. So it’s gotta flood a chamber in less than a second. Cause, ya’know, Shads. And sometimes angry tribers.

Yep, I definitely pulled that pin intentionally. Not because glass stabbed me through the foot.

I toss the grenade to the side, the rosargent plating splintering apart – violently – the instant it hit the ground.

Smoke. Beautiful, clear, legible, it curls around me like a comforting blanket. Scorching hot like it should be – I instantly locate the fire opal and summon it to my hand with a phantom arm of thickened smoke.

I take my time leaving the angry stranger – limping, with the glass still in my foot – and hit a different, abnormally smooth surface. I hear and smoke-touch people around me.

Punks, I sure hope this is where people are supposed to walk.

Next time I fall through a hole in reality, I’m taking Search with me. (She’d probably love it anyway.)

Ugh. Why did my day turn out like this?! I actually did something nice this morning! Just cause! And this is how I’m repaid?! Sheesh!

The idiot is bellowing behind me. Who cares? He won’t follow me. Right punks? I’ve got smoke now.

I roll the fire opal over my knuckles, enjoying the searing burning accompanying it. As long as it’s exposed to oxygen, it’ll burn until there’s nothing left. And the chemicals injected into it will produce triple smoke.

Sure are expensive. But, I like ‘seeing’ so I eat the cost.

I think I can run on this foot still – once I get the glass out. I need new boots. Actually, I want something designed for running. I need to be able to run.

Shad’s don’t normally come to populated areas, but depending on how far out the settlement is, how well it’s established…

… shut up and stop panicking. I fell through an honest-to-Cathedrals hole in reality. There are no Shads here.
<p style=”text-align: center;”>~*~*~</p>
A long, black, bony claw pierces through the vault wall. The beast shambles forward, a skeleton with inky void holding it together (barely). It drips oily black from battered joints and open maw. No visible eyes pierce through the black hollows the skull.

It barely passes as humanoid: so stooped over, its overlong arms drape the ground. The claws – each as long as the finger they are on – scrap the floor with a horrendous shriek. Frost skits under them like sparks.

Deep in its throat, an eery moan struggles to escape, a rasp cutting the air with the reverberating howl.

A security guard spots it and screams, emptying his gun into the beast.

It is useless.

In an instant, the beast is on him. Ripping. Slicing. Screaming louder and more agonized than its victim.

Out of the fissure in the vault, another creature creeps, wailing its etherial cry that sounds like the void personified.

The Cold Shadows are here. And they are hungry.

 

 

…

Amnesia – you are unwise to open voids between worlds. You never know what you may invite. You believe yourself to have the blackest heart among a people of black hearts. Yet how can you fight something with no heart?

Something that consumes and spreads.

Something that grows in the darkest corners you will never be able to eradicate. 

Try.

Do try.

Don’t make the same mistake we did, however.

Don’t assume you can’t destroy your world.

Don’t assume you can remake it.

Even you must live with the consequences of your actions. 

As must I.
<p style=”text-align: right;”>Now of no title and little consequence</p>
<p style=”text-align: right;”>Grimme Diamond</p>