The breach pulsed behind them as Lucian stood at its edge, watching the colors shift and swirl. The others had gathered close—Lucy with Althea at her side, Marc leaning against a rock formation, Silas standing silent and watchful. Alistair had moved to the front, his eyes fixed on the wound in reality.
"Before we go any further," Lucian said, his voice cutting through the low hum of the void, "I need to understand what we're walking into. These Outer Gods. Where did they come from? What do they actually want?"
Alistair turned to face him. The strain of holding the line for so long was visible in every line of his face, but his eyes were clear.
"They're not from anywhere," he said. "That's the first thing you need to understand. They didn't evolve. They weren't created. They've always existed, in the spaces between realities."
