A common belief found in many civilisations is that a will, if strong enough, can imprint itself upon reality.

There is one word that is understood in every language, that echoes throughout the eons, and permeates through universes.

Arbiter.

Percy Harrison Fawcett was an Arbiter, he had been for a while. The machinists at the Royal Geographical Society had created a new plaything with the express purpose of monitoring and detecting "transdimensional skulduggery" for lack of a better phrase. A number of the coordinates being spat out lay deep in Amazonia and Percy was dispatched to investigate under the guise of an expedition to find a mythological city.

Alongside him were his two apprentices, namely his son, Jack, and Jack's childhood best friend Raleigh. They had already ventured past the last of the known native tribes and were now unfathomably deep in a humid, hostile hellscape.

The apprentices were silent, discipline instilled in them from prior dispatches. It was a discipline that was probably unnecessary considering the incessant noise of the restless jungle but it was discipline that kept one alive, one of the few lessons that Percy truly appreciated from his career in the expeditionary forces.

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As they approached their destination, the incessant noise seemed a lot more cessant; instead substituted by the telltale void whispers that were everpresent in regions of unstable space.

The apprentices drew their pistols as they advanced, filled with a stoic determination and vigilance that encouraged a sense of pride in their mentor.

Despite his students, the Arbiter's hands remained empty; his previous position of artilleryman being more literal than one would imagine.

Hands moved. Messages conveyed. There was someone ahead.  A woman: tall, naked, and much too pale for one this deep in the jungle, but then again so were they. The fact   her back was turned to them was a fine indicator that she was aware of their presence - people were meant to look around in the jungle. Yet the Arbiter was a well-travelled man and had long learnt that different wasn't necessarily hostile.

They edged closer. The fractures in reality were intense here, but they were easy enough to avoid, whispers belying the areas in which they would soon appear.

Percy signaled to stop. And spoke with a tangible and unwavering authority, "Imperial Arbiter!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the witch turned around presenting a chimeric form- an unholy sewing of a dryads body and a hags face.

In the time she turned his son was dead. Vines protruding from his corpse that led to the witch, Jack's limbs twisting and contorting into a grim facsimile of a tree, his lifeless eyes staring at a shell-shocked Raleigh before his soul followed that of his closest friend. Bisected by a reality fracture, fright preventing him from processing the whispers that foreshadowed his demise.

The Arbiter roared, the inferno within his heart spreading to his now crimson eyes before continuing to the heavens.

It rained fire. He would raze this damned jungle starting with the hag ahead of him. Surprise flashed on her face before the rainforest erupted.

The Arbiter himself was flung backwards from the proximal nature of his hellfire into an open fracture, followed by the now-liberated immortal corpse of the dryad.