*Amidst the Threads of Reality*
The Magus has been at this for several days. He does not eat. He does not sleep. It is fortunate that he is no longer human, or else this would have taken much longer. His mystic presence moves through the most primal strands of this reality- well, almost the most primal. There are things even The Magus does not wish to know.
He focuses upon the strands of these seven Endless. He can feel that they are vital to the mending of the damage that has been done. Three of them are woven together at the point of crisis: Destruction, Death, and Dream. Desire and Delirium pass in and out seemingly at whim.
"...There must be an answer... somewhere... I will find it..."
He focuses upon the strands of these seven Endless. He can feel that they are vital to the mending of the damage that has been done. Three of them are woven together at the point of crisis: Destruction, Death, and Dream. Desire and Delirium pass in and out seemingly at whim.
"...There must be an answer... somewhere... I will find it..."