The black sun burned, illuminating the forest in stark monochrome. Black leafs and gray branches, dark vines sprouting white flowers. He looked at the flower that had led him here, its stem cut in half as it grew in a crack between realities.
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She looked up, at seven moons arranged in a pattern. The stars behind were fractal, in spirals within spirals. She took a step, a slight crunch from the snow. There was nothing else, as far as the eye could see.
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Her eyes turned crystalline, and she hurried back to the rift before she could only see what others saw. She was too late.
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He landed on a boulder, floating. There were others, a mountain of floating stone. They were lit from below, ribbons of magma visible 10, 100, 1000 feet down through the gaps. An empty sky above.
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He screamed, as his face cracked to reveal the fiery currents within.
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