Vakochev floated upon the sundered weavings of the Dimensional Provenance Train, and the space around him was no longer space.
The cleaving of the Train had unmade the very definition of the region, and where reality had been there was now only undefinition, a churning obsidian foam that filled everything, existence itself boilng where the seam had parted! And within that foam the Remnant hung, wrapped in his obsidian flames, a silhouette of dark fire standing at the center of a wound in creation, unhurried, unbothered, waiting!
And at the edge of the breach, The Immense Ones gathered!
They came, and they were not entirely perceivable, because beings such as these did not fit inside the sight of anything lesser! At one moment they were massive eyes hanging in the dark, and the next they were gone entirely, present only as pressure, as weight, as a wrongness in the boiling foam.
