Mika had long given up trying to predict the Will of the World's intentions.
From what he had dug up in archives, deciphered from ancient scriptures, and pried out of the mouths of old mystics who knew too much, the Will was supposed to be the great conscience of the world, a protective instinct woven into reality itself.
It was, in theory, the guardian that nurtured civilizations, guided them toward prosperity, and steered them away from ruin. At least, that was the romanticized image passed down over centuries.
In technical terms, it should have been the ultimate benevolent force. The kind of thing you could trust to act in the best interest of everyone.
But the scene with the portal had shredded that image into pieces.
The rift that hadappeared had not simply torn into thin air, it had ripped through the path of a passenger plane mid-flight.
