>>1056964
>EIGHTH PASSAGE. 🛰️VIII. EVENT HORIZON🛰️Lo, in front of their presence… the end of the world rest.
The final frontier… or could it be the first one?
A beauteous, amorphous statue tailored in seamless, sleek and glossy stone. So impossibly pulchritudinous and forgotten still, standing over there, at the center of a darkness completely empty. An unknown obscurity, such as the one of space distant, or as the one from the breathtaking bottom of the seas; erected at the umbral of a great cave, surrounded by the trees entire.
Not one uttered a single word. Not one. Silence absolute.
The child shivered and subsequently withdrew, he turned his back onto the statue and limped away.
Yet… the backward steps of his fellows did not reach his ears, so he stopped, and against himself forced his own head to the side and half-heartedly face them where they remained, twitching and turning, akin to pulling an old, uncomfortable, ratchet and rusty lever. His shoulders tightly cramped together.
And there they were, Magica and Batjed, beings whom were gazing upon the boy with confusion and incomprehension. They looked at each other, at the boy, and in direction of the ethereal object. They knew what they knew, and could not speak any other answer.
Thus he returned to his original spot, getting closer to the formless statue, feeling what cannot be named rise up in him with each step, until he halted right in front of it.
The taciturn boy, against wisdom and reason themselves, in affront of everything that is sacred above this earth and any world, stepped towards the statue… lifting his elongated right arm, and from it, the index of his hand to lay touch upon it… but he tripped into the cave, his finger slipping by the stone.
He tripped… and all went black, but an amount of time so microscopic later, he awoke.
The world… had changed. Reality had changed. Everything changed.
Not a thousand words would suffice to describe the scenario: It was something that necessitated beholding, to be seen with your own eyes, it necessitated presence, to be there. And actually… there he was.
A vast landscape, unbound as the universe, with no real end, without dimension, without form; black as letting your eyes be open in a lightless chamber; yet riddled with bizarre, neon and contrasting colours all at once.
Colors concealed from naked sight revealed in their totality before him, patterns and shapes which no mortal could ever conceive of; what in the worldless was this? was he, perchance, inside the mind of a god?
'Twas this the world outside of order, the world of concepts and ideas non-existent, of what was not and shall be, of absoluteness, todo, and nothingness, nada. Devoid of the why, and especially of the how. One could hardly call out to whom it belonged: Did it belong to the light? To the dark…? No; this world was set apart.
It was another. It was occult. It was chaotic.