On a tropical island, a silver sludge waterfall twisted and expanded.
Faces and body parts strained against the slime, one form larger and angrier than the rest. Screams rippled through the grime as a hand ripped the boundary. A cloaked body tumbled to the grass. Xiathia lay limp and panting.
The dimension itself had fought against her, thinking her an invading enemy.
Given the circumstances, she didn't blame it for being scared and wary.
Ghirti had been taken by force after all. That'd be enough to rattle anyone, let alone the dimension tied to the Gods keeping.
The k********g had happened at the Phayrin Temple.
The God had been very eager to show off the sandcastle they'd made. They'd refused to accommodate her slower pace, racing out to the beach alone. Xiathia had started running
