The clash between Rowan and Primordial Soul was taking place in a higher-dimensional realm with properties of the ninth dimension, yet the Origin Land was beginning to suffer nearly irreparable damage.
The void had transformed from an inert space to something eerily consumable. It tasted of rust, ozone, and the metallic tang of freshly spilled divinity, the likes of which had long been lost from Reality.
The land around them for countless light years wasn't earth; it was the scab of a reality torn from normality into madness, a crust of ossified screams and crystallized despair over a churning abyss of primordial chaos.
Above, a bruised sky pulsed with veins of sickly green and bruised purple, where distant, lidless eyes blinked with the slow, indifferent rhythm of dying suns.
