Chapter 4: A Human To An Ant
From the wound in space, the eyes receded like breath held in reverence. Then, in their place, tentacles emerged—not in the way flesh moves, but how influence swarm unfazed.
Each one slithered silently, weaving into the air with impossible grace. Their surfaces shimmered like rivers of starlight, threaded with runes that pulsed with alien rhythm.
They didn't reach toward Kivas. They reached around her—anchoring themselves to the empty space, stitching themselves to the seams of time, pulling on the reality that held her.
With each movement, the world around her folded, pressed, shivered.
The living soil beneath her disintegrated into cascading glyphs. The void stretched thin, warped, and then unraveled like fabric pulled from every corner at once.
Gravity spun. Space buckled. The planar axis tilted and melted.
Kivas felt her soul lurch. Her breath fled her lungs.
There was no sound.
Then everything cracked.
She fell through the breach.
When sensation returned, she found herself standing at the heart of a ritual circle traced in burning celestial threads.