Aether Snap (Theo Morrison)

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Aether Snap (Theo Morrison)
Date of Cutscene: 01 March 2014
Location: The Aether
Synopsis: Niv-Mizzet has made a sacrifice. Theo, hoping it's not quite as ultimate as it seems, leaves a message.
Cast of Characters: Theo Morrison
Tinyplot: Spark of the Dragon

There is a flicker. Visible to gone. Here to there.


Theo doesn't usually do it this way. Usually, he has a destination, a concrete place in mind to go. He does his own little ritual, drawing the mana and focusing it into the shape he needs to move from point A to point B -- so long as point B is on a different world than point A, anyway. Then, he moves, and, with a short hop through the Aether, he's there.

This time it doesn't quite go that way.

Theo appears, and immediately wishes he hadn't. Vertigo and fog strike him in equal measure. He falls, his forward momentum turning vertical. He really hopes there's a ground for him to fall on, sooner rather than late-

He hits something, hard. Theo yelps, more in alarm than pain. A dull ache spreads, but he gets his hands and feet back under him in short order. Aura, he thinks. It apparently takes a little more than a drop through dimensions to seriously injure him.

Theo pushes himself to his feet. The fog parts. The thing under him is a path, or what looks like one; the surface is grey stone, all one piece like it was carved out of a single great mountain. It stretches on ahead of him, curving into the fog. He thinks it goes downward, but he can't tell. It's impossible to judge the distance. He doesn't think it /means/ anything here.

Doesn't matter. Theo shakes his head. He's not here to sight-see. He turns, craning his neck. The way back, such as it is, is behind and above him. It's a force of will to change the shrouded space above him, the clouds parting as he directs in roiling waves. Maybe that's how he had a place to land, he thinks, or maybe someone else put it there before. He can sort of make out where he came from, though...

Theo takes a breath, cupping his hands to his mouth. He yells into the Aether, the empty space between spaces. It doesn't quite echo, but it carries all the same. "NIIIIV! Are you in here?!" The whole point of this stupid, stupid plan was to find the dragon before he got too far gone. Assuming he's even here. Could that sort of thing happen twice? "NIV!!" He stops, straining to listen.


Frustrated, he tries something different. Theo focuses, gathering mana from the clouds of Aether. The sensation is electrifying; the steady stream he usually gets, drawing it from the land, is replaced by a tidal wave. The vortex of chaotic energy gives him more than he ever wanted, a flood of power surging out of the clouds of mana and entropy. It's all Theo can do to direct it, nevermind control it. He pushes it downward, trying to hold a sliver while letting the rest go back to where it came from.

Mana floods outward. The stone walkway he's on cracks, shuddering, disintegrating all around him. He retreats backwards, pieces coming apart as he flings excess mana back to it's source. The clouds roil, twisting in on themselves, and thunderous cracks follow suit. Theo exhales a tremendous yell, dropping to his knees and releasing the power in a rush, scattering the mists and taking hold of the stone that remains. It shudders again, groaning and rumbling.

It stops. He breathes, raising his eyes to look at what he's done. The pathway ahead is no more, replaced instead with a stone monolith. It's rectangular but irregular, shaped inexpertly by his will and power. Upon it's surface is carved something curious: a formula of a curious sort, seemingly nonsensical.

(Z–>)90º – (E–N²W)90ºt = 1

Theo steps back, nodding in satisfaction. He'll know what it means. He looks upwards, towards the place the Rift to Ravnica was --

-- and sees something else looking down at him from the mist, its head sunken and eyeless, its body incomprehensibly vast and possessing far, far too many appendages. He stares up at it, unmoving, and it does the same down at him. There is a moment of sudden, stunned shock, seemingly from both parties, though for different reasons.

The mists boil and sweep closed between them just as it begins to descend towards him. Theo starts running, refusing to look back for even an instant, following the twisting paths to only one place in particular: