The Broken Mirror

The dimensional breach tore open like a festering wound across the grey sky, and from it poured horrors that had never been meant to exist.

Alexia stood atop the Obsidian Spire's highest platform, her crystalline wings spread wide to catch the impossible winds that howled between realities. Below her, the survivors of the New Silence scrambled for cover as nightmares given form began to rain from the twisted sky.

A creature that was simultaneously inside-out and right-side-up crashed into the wasteland, its anatomy a study in contradictions. It had no flesh, only the concept of flesh. No bones, only the mathematical certainty that bones should exist. When it moved, reality hiccupped around it like a corrupted recording.

"The Nightmare Realms are bleeding through," Thane reported, his equation-body flickering with distress as he processed the dimensional data. "She's lost control completely."