Caucasus Mountains, Feb 15th, 2016
The world tore.
Wind screamed and snow shifted from mountain tops. Fissures rumbled down rock faces, holes opened in the earth, and Gregorian floated over it all, staring at a problem that his power alone couldn't solve.
There's a first for everything. Stretched out in the air before him was the latest symptom of a greater disease.
A zigzagging highway of dots crawled over the valley below. Clawed feet carved divots through plowed white fields, dragging behind them misshapen bodies, wrong in proportion, design and movement.
A few miles south sat a city—unsuspecting and asleep. Gregorian stayed his hand, unable to act. Not yet. His mana reserves were perilously low, and the world was starved for more.
"Where the Hell are they?" He reached into his pack, pulling forth eight stones, whispering a precious dribble of magic into them. Grumbles and curses fought for room in his throat. The tear in reality stretched wider, more creatures pouring out like dark water. "They should be here by now."
The tear was hungry, sucking at the air around it, pulling everything closer. Gregorian's robes billowed and snapped as he channeled a spell to keep himself afloat and away. The diamond-shaped tear hung suspended in the air, offering a glimpse into the hell beyond. Rolling hills of darkness, a black sky run through with living red lightning, and geysers of magma blasting unceasingly into the air. The smell of sulfur made Gregorian's nose crinkle. A queue of horrors sat patiently waiting their turn to break through, pouring from the lips of the tear like froth from a rabid mouth.
Dread bloomed heavy in Gregorian's gut. This was the largest tear he had seen yet. From crown to base it was large enough to swallow a city block. If he didn't do something soon, there would be no closing it.
"Come on… Come on…"
A dark silhouette lumbered into view, taking up half the tear on its own. Hands–large enough to squeeze a man to paste–grasped the sides of the rift, and pulled a titanic creature from the depths.
I guess time's up, Gregorian thought. He pulled from his depleted mana reserves and felt the piercing sting he hadn't felt since he was a boy.
Power erupted, and columns of flame sprang from his palms. His vision became heat and death as he dragged them across the ground, turning piles of snow to flowing rivers.
The screams didn't bother him. They rarely did.
His lack of progress did though. It was like using a match to burn down a tree. He hardly made a dent.
The monstrous form took notice of Gregorian, its attention sending goosebumps up his arms. His blood froze. With a thunderous step it entered this world, foot crashing down, snow rocketed skyward in heaving waves. It hung still, suspended between worlds. Testing the waters.
Useless, spineless, cowardly worms. Where are you?
He couldn't wait any longer.
Gregorian dug through his mental library, his thoughts retreated inward. The world faded away becoming a red, white and black blur as he focused on his spells. His mental library was cluttered with faded scrolls, incantations, rituals and more. After a moment of digging he found what he was looking for. A spirit scroll he had been saving for a special occasion. This was about as special as it got.
"This has to work. If it doesn't I'll string the Council up by their ankles."
A dribble of blood poured from his nose, veins bulged, and his body fought his commands, but still he released the mana he didn't have into the scroll.
A sphere of pale white energy raced away from him in all directions. Cities hundreds of miles away would whisper rumors to each other; the tabloids would report of alien attacks or a blown transformer. Whatever lies the blanks liked to tell themselves.
The energy came to a stop and the spell took hold.
The world ground to a halt. The snow froze in the air–a sea of twinkling white diamonds. Below, the lines of monsters ground to a halt.
The goliath froze in the tear, halfway between worlds. Gregorian's guts turned to ice. The creature was still moving. Glacially slow, but it moved.
"Impossible," he tried to say, but even the sound froze in his throat.
There was hardly any mana left in his reserves, but it would have to be enough. It had to be.
A pang of loss struck him as he recalled the days when mana was plentiful. The world was once an ocean, and he but a guppy. Now it was a barren seabed, and he was a leviathan gasping for air.
Gregorian reached forward with his mana, forming it into two gargantuan hands. They grasped the tear by the sides. He pulled, drawing the sides closer as though trying to shut an overfilled luggage. He nearly doubled over, scraping, searching, clawing for more power that wasn't there, like dragging a finger through a shallow wound.
He wished things had never gotten this far. But they had, and he was as much to blame as the rest.
Magic was dying. Not with a roar, but a whimper.
Once, it protected the world, an invisible seal.
Now the barrier was torn.
And we're the only ones that can seal it, he thought grimly. The doormen of their world were a pathetic sort. Villains dressed in the skins of heroes, draped in deeds but not intent.
They paraded themselves as paragons of virtue, all while choking the world of its spark.
Gregorian knew the truth. They were afraid to lose their status.
The best way to sit atop the world is to destroy the ladder that leads there.
Now look where we are.
His own mana reserves emptied completely, something that hadn't happened in a hundred years. Deep in the recesses of his mental library was an old spell he dusted off.
Mana Siphon(Verbal)
"Consuga!" he coughed out, aligning the shape of the spell in his mind, a funnel along his back, two tips coming out of his palms. Normally this was dangerous. A last resort. It could fill the caster with more mana than they could handle. But there was little worry of that with the world bereft of mana. It was like throwing a water pump into a puddle.
But still, every little bit helped.
Small dregs of power seeped into him and slowly, slowly, the tear closed, the tops and bottoms stitching up, and the thousand glowing yellow eyes beyond disappearing behind the curtain of reality. Time resumed, the world breathing once more. The tear snapped shut and the goliath caught between worlds was sliced neatly down the center. A shadowy mass collapsed in coils to the ground, disintegrating into viscous oil slicks.
With the tear closed, the creatures below that hadn't suffered the flames fell, clutching their throats. With the window closed, they gasped and choked on this world's air.
One by one they collapsed.
Gregorian wanted to join them. His body sang with misery. But beneath the aches, pains and a dash of relief something else simmered. A vicious, bubbling fury.
It was time to go have a word with the Council.