Rain poured from the heavens, its relentless drumming rhythmic and loud. Puddles rapidly formed in every gap and crevice, reflecting the light of street signs and lampposts. A howling wind picked up, scattering crumpled newspapers across the side of a rundown building adorned with graffiti and decay.
A light as bright as the sun engulfed an alleyway and the figure of a man materialised from dust and smoke. Straining to breathe, his muscles ached from the sudden shift to form. He released an exhausted breath, keeling over in pain. Not only did his body protest, but his soul felt as if someone had dragged it through the eye of a needle and poured it out the other side.
He felt the world lurch, shaky beneath him. He rose, pain shooting up his knees. Cracking his neck with a satisfied pop, he looked down at a puddle of water. Reflected in the pool, his mismatched eyes glared back at him, green and blue.
The oddity still sent shivers down his spine, tiny needles prickling his skin. Slowly, the world came into focus. By reflex, he assumed a seated position, cross-legged, and the world went dark, his eyes giving way to weariness. He muttered in a strange language and felt the ground vibrate beneath him, every chant it rose like a pulse.
An intricate diagram manifested below him. Sparing a peek, he could barely keep track of the glowing symbols constantly shifting in and out of phase. Pain lanced through his body and blinding light engulfed his vision.
Gritting his teeth, he felt a slight give, something unlatched within. Objects poured from his chest, arms and legs, clattering to the floor. They comprised a curved silver dagger, a glowing wand, rune-etched pendants and medallions. Despite the cornucopia of items, he felt his gaze drawn to a single item.
A leather-bound grimoire, held closed by a latch. He felt the intricate design, the soft thrum of power vibrating through his palm. Memories came to the forefront of his mind, the adrenaline of flight, a stolen book.
"You better be worth all the trouble." He muttered to himself.
In the periphery, he noticed a wisp of plastic. Garbage bags were strewn about. Gathering them up, he placed the artefacts within, tying them off and slinging them over his shoulder.
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What remained was a small pendant. He froze, and his grip tightened around the article. He could feel his eyes growing moist. With a substantial force of will, he held back the tide of raw emotion.
He opened the latch, revealing the portrait of a woman. His gaze lost on the image, he released a wary breath and closed the latch. He felt the sensation of cold metal as the chain adorned his neck. Rising to his feet, he turned to the exit.
With a sense of his environment reclaimed, he could now fathom the world around him. Not the mundane senses, but something more instinctual. It was a feeling he had ever since he cast his first spell and branded his first rune. The feeling of power, a sublime connection to an ever-present energy that pervaded the entire world.
Standing at the entrance of a filthy alley, the sights and sounds were familiar, lampposts, darkened streets and parked cars. With all the trappings of modern life, this was earth, it felt like home.
Despite returning to his mother-world, there was immediate repulsion. Going stiff, his senses desperately tried to locate the familiar sensation. But in the end, he felt nothing. This world was void of a precious gift.
"The world is dead."
He recalled the feeling, the pulse, the thrum of power. He felt sick, not a physical sensation, his soul cried out for sustenance. Receiving not a sliver, he imagined it cannibalising itself just to keep satisfied. Shivering at the thought of the day, it would run out.
His mind raced over ideas he had prepared, but no preparation was perfect. Feeling for a tether, something to hold on to. The sensation of warmth and life poured over him the moment his soul made contact.
A sense of a sphere, not physical anymore. He could feel neither form nor matter. It dwelled within a store of power, a reservoir of hope. He shivered, the sensation overwhelmed him and he was content. But he knew it wouldn't last, nothing lasts forever.
Taking his first steps in this known yet unknown land. His fists clenched, and he shrugged away the tension in his shoulders. Keeping the feeling of raw power, his steps were resolute and final.