Tunnels of interdimensional fractals full of impossible colors Kikito had never seen pass him by, melting and shifting in various directions. The directions turn suddenly with melting images of sacred geometric shapes into compounding entrances to wormholes on top of each other. He's compelled to move along them, the scent of raspberries filling his senses until it's choking, going beyond the smell and burning at his astral projected ball of energy. It’s a painless burn but intense nonetheless. He keeps going on the journey where pockets of reality rip open like slashing wounds. He sees the pool of ichor Dark lives in, a bright blue glowing at its bottom. Kikito is perplexed why Dark hadn’t decided to mention that yet. For some dramatic reveal? He hoped not. He was beyond tired of the esoteric mysteries of the cosmos.
A shift to the Grove, where Kobus gather around bright blue light, hopping around it like a grand bonfire. They raise their caps, beady eyes shining against the light. Their tiny mouths open to tinier chasms of green and they chant in a language Kikito has no hope of understanding. It's more than ancient; it's alien but delicate like a choir. Their song joins the sounds of the Grove in a haunting display of tranquility.
Another rip takes him back to the Capital of Underearth, enduring under the burning black sun, to a wall enclosing the city. A giant humanoid creature stands taller than the wall, made of the black stone of the dirt and rocks of the area and scintillating with the same tiny encrusted gemstones. Its hands are long and slim for slipping into the wall's nooks and crannies, and a giant green eye is loosely set into the head, defying anatomical physics to move the eye all around its bald featureless head. Blue light glows faintly to him from inside its head. It wanders along the wall idly, peering down into the wall’s holes on its systematic patrol.
He continues on his journey back into the madness of these psychedelic tunnels. And I thought the Willways were big, he thinks. The overall color theme shifts, moving away from the impossible colors into ones he's used to, regular colors of the rainbow, and more rips appear. He glimpses a sky even redder than Za’at’s, black smoke billowing in lieu of clouds. It takes over the sky with only glimpses of the unsettling red sky. The Smithsonian stands, mostly. Its bricks are in disarray, scattered amongst wreckage as far as the rip allows Kikito to see, a couple of blocks of destruction. He sees through the building’s remains, blue light bouncing around a tiny blue diamond set into a beautiful crust of diamonds, lying on the floor of a ruined display room.
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Another rip takes Kikito across the country to the land of giant trees, broken up across chaotic tectonic plates surging up into the sky and down into the liquid mantle layer like a sea made of terrain. Redwoods are swallowed up by the earth, one particularly giant one clinging to dear life, a frantic light echoing from inside it. They roll with the ground, disturbed tree tops reaching towards the red sky.
Across the world, an archaeological site rests several miles away from a city on fire. a soft blue glow radiates but is quickly drowned out when Kikito is able to pan out to that city. A gorgeous old town in the foreground of mountains now jagged and broken with lava oozing out from deep within. Bodies litter the streets, tinier dots against the dots of cars, while balls of fire rain down. More rips in the wormhole reveal the same scenario happening everywhere, so many already dead. Cities engulfed by chaos, happening more quickly than people can think of it as a looting opportunity. Canyons become magma lakes from volcano spillage, shorelines completely taken back by enormous, angry waves. Some can only be recognized by the remains of the tallest skyscrapers poking out from brown currents. He can only watch these events take place, alone.
He's eventually able to pull himself away from the visions and return to the wormholes, drifting aimlessly through them as he takes it all in. He weeps even if his projection can't cry, watching the particles play with each other all around him. He wonders if there's a way to stay here forever with these shapes instead of realities waiting for him on the other side. It's impossible: he knows that but he clings to it like a child clings to conscious before their first day of school, the first day of the end of the innocence their parents have nurtured since the day they arrived. A profound melancholy takes him and he realizes he can't be alone right now. He rights himself, looks for the way out. In the distance he sees it, a small rip showing his sleeping body. He pushes himself towards it, the rest of the wormhole dimming until it's dark again, save for his glowing self. He settles back into his body and into the comfort of Kelvin and Mirana.