The Ominous Abomination

Northern struck. Flashing across the expanse with a trail of light, he became a streak of brilliance, a blade of motion cutting through the stagnant air. His figure blurred, then fractured—splitting into silhouettes of himself, each a mirage of intent, each a ghostly echo of the real. The blade in his grasp howled, vibrating with the force of his charge.

Several hands tore out of the rift guardian's body, writhing like twisted tendrils as they shot toward him, seeking to crush him mid-air. Northern twisted, veering through their grasp with instinctive precision. Maneuvering past them was easy.

Or so he thought—until the next moment proved otherwise.