Izobella meandered with the night atop one of the many jagged ledges in the Inevitable City. Eyes closed, she directed her gaze towards the blossom-point, that space between the brows. She could feel the presence of the entity this world called Tzeentch, the many-faced, many-named presence that erupted in many dimensions–even the one that spawned her.
The city of the flesh vanished and was gradually replaced by the mind’s eye take on the structures. This wasn’t flesh-and-blood reality, and it wasn’t imagination. It was the spiritual reverse of reality, a thing mortals avoided least they face the horrible truth: Mortality is a game, a thing of parts, names, actions. The real world could only be seen eyes shut, not eyes open.
Tzeentch was the grasping center of all phenomena, an action, a coming forth, an eternity. Like a map with no center laid back upon a second map with no…
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