Chapter Text
The monks always told her that she had an affinity for dimensional travel, but she didn’t expect traveling out of Azarath would feel like this. Like she was being weighed down, tethered to the very realm she was trying to leave. Where the farther she went away, the more she felt like pieces of her were being tugged by a force that was determined to keep her bound.
Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if the magistrate did in fact magically bind her to the dimension. But it could also just be the result of how Azarath was situated on a multi-dimensional nexus.
Continuing to travel onward, she continued to focus on overcoming the planar shifts to reach her intended destination. But it didn’t help that the tugging was getting worse. Like several invisible ropes were wrapped around her and cutting off her circulation. Parts of her body were cold and her spine felt particularly strained.
But she was at the halfway point now. The seal protecting the realm was a shining display of runes, glyphs and scripts arrayed in a circular masterpiece of magical craftsmanship. Even as far away as she was, the light purple glow of the seal emitted powerful energies that made her blood pump through her system. She could practically feel her inner demon hissing as she approached that which was meant to repel any and every threat that attempted to approach the realm of pacifists.
Attempting to break it was out of the question. Even if she was on the inside. Because even though it was meant to keep malicious entities out, its construction meant that it was also good for keeping things in. Unless Azar herself was willing to permit passage, several master spellcasters were required to temporarily forge a clear path out of the dimension.
She knew how to get through though. Power coursed through her, surging around her as she coated herself in black energy that pulled and pried at the surrounding space. It was a feat few can do, contorting interdimensional space. But if she could just create a spatial warp around herself, she could essentially trick the seal into thinking that she was just a warped rift of trans-etheric energies. That is to say, she will trick it into believing she was part of the fabric of (this) reality. Or she supposed this place was technically a reality between realities.
Her powers pulled at the threads of space and dimension, tearing at creation to temporarily unravel before her. She even felt the tugging leave her. Then she started the coaxing. Giving gentle pushes and tugs to have it stitch it back into a shape she wants.
When looked upon with the naked eye, it almost looked like the world had endured an unnatural smearing. Like this reality was made of paint and some careless oaf had swiped a hand in the middle of it—and that smear had the illogical ability to move. Darting through the seal like an unwanted cockroach, it left bends in space-time as it went. Wafts of space contorted only slightly, increments of time twisted only minutely. The unnatural smear traveled a bit more, nearly reaching reality’s edge, and then the interdimensional space started to lazily ripple. A small cascade of universal laws trying to correct itself, before it all repaired itself like a sudden and imperceivable ‘snap!’.
That’s when things went wrong for her.
It was like the world suddenly remembered who she was, and it most decidedly knew that she was supposed to be there, one the other side of the seal, and not here, perpetually careening closer to her destination. Furthermore, it determined that she was not supposed to be here in the now, but instead was supposed to be there then. So she could be at a different now. Things were wrong.
And apart from all of that was that binding force. What was once an insistent tugging was now a searing pull. Invisible threads of Azarathian magic that suddenly gained a clarity of purpose since she tore reality asunder. They knew where she was supposed to be and it wasn’t in this interdimensional space.
It felt like every part of her was being torn apart. Like it was trying to wrench her open so it can place her where she was supposed to be. Except there were two ideas on where exactly she was supposed to go. One force was trying to place her before the great seal, while the other was trying to drag her even farther back and expel her from this place entirely.
Energies were passing over her in an overwhelming torrent, each trying to reorient parts of her one bit at a time. Each affecting her in a variety of ways. Each assaulting one or multiple of her senses. It was a cacophony of fragments,
A feeling of calm and stasis. Lingering memories of flickering candles and religious hymns. The smell of incense. The hymns of prayer. Imprints of Azarath’s temple, keenly spearing themselves through her senses. She was supposed to be on Azarath, and this duty, wrought by intelligent spellcraft, resounded like a near-divine judgement.
Panic has set in. Terror is clawing through her veins. Blind fear calling for her powers to come forth and banish that which is trying to tear her apart. To challenge the advent of a small cosmic break.
Her powers surged.