The rift in the sky pulsed like a wounded heart, Norn's infinite fractal forms undulating in a mesmerizing, horrifying rhythm.
The Great Abyssal of Spacetime hung there, a colossal entity defying comprehension—thousands of titanic humanoids branching into smaller ones, each split a mirror of madness, all stemming from massive tendrils that converged into an even vaster core hidden beyond the bleeding tear in reality.
The air around it warped, light bending into unnatural patterns, gravity tugging erratically as if the laws of physics bowed in deference.
Norn's countless eyes—glowing voids scattered across its forms—focused on the Construct, the humanoid tendril that served as its mouthpiece tilting curiously.
"How many years has it been since we last met, teacher?" the hollow voice resonated, a chorus of echoes that vibrated through the air, making clouds ripple like water.
