A hand fell onto his shoulder which he never could have foreseen. He welcomed the opportunity to abandon his thoughts, to conjure a spear of crystal and alabaster and plunge it into whoever or whatever was behind him as he imbued the weapon with the concept of killing. The hand caught it with absolute imperative, and Hollow staggered back as he felt a small pocket of Fate right itself in his mind, centering around the regal entity before him: Malekai. The Bleeding Raven. Sylver. Dispelling the weapon with ease, the Twilight King took a step forward, his salt-and-pepper gray hair swaying as if solely for the familiarity of mundane physics. “Gather yourself, boy. Stay contained. We mustn't fortify the existence of this place.” The man’s presence was enough to restore rationality. Hollow had no idea what he’d seen, but he put off the assumption that all of reality was being undone. As he opened his mouth, he found himself gasping for breath despite being beyond the need. “What is happening? What is that thing?” He sought to extend his existence, to fortify reality around himself for comfort if nothing else, but his efforts were quickly obliterated by a fold of nonexistence. “You mustn't. The Null entraps it. We must exist as sparingly as possible here.” Pacing across the spaceless plain to examine the still, amaranthine creature, Sylver took on the visage of a father instructing his children on the dangers of the world. “I will reassure you that reality is not unraveling. Not immediately, at least. Put no weight into what you perceive. Fate, here, is separate from the rest of existence. It is also meaningless.” Placated but afraid, Hollow gathered himself and sat on the ground—or imitated the action, at least—careful to avoid the gaze of the eel. “But, what- how-” he sighed. “I have every question I could possibly have.” Finally, he settled on one: “[i]What is that?[/i]” Sylver, uncharacteristically grave, ran a hand over his chin. The expression, combined with the overgrown stubble on his face, made him look… tired. “That is Incarnix. The semantics of the name are painfully complex but easily truncated. It is an incarnation, of sorts. Null may be impossible to incarnate in its nothingness and infinity, but this isn’t quite that. Incarnix represents the opposite of Fate. Chaos, if you will, though I don’t think that’s quite right. Its existence is a paradox: to exist is to be a part of Fate, and yet they are antithetical.” He took a moment to let Hollow consider but continued before the boy could further his inquiries, circling around the great demon all the while. “It is from a time before time. A remnant from the beginning of the universe, anti-order condensed and conceptualized. It is anathema to everything we know.” “So,” Hollow put forth unevenly, “It’s stuck here? Is it beginning to escape?” “In the simplest terms, yes. I did not place it here, nor, I believe, did any before me. It seems that, as a precondition for the universe to exist, this concept was isolated. It corrupted its own fate so thoroughly that it became fundamentally separate from the rest of the weave. However, given chaos for eons untold, its continuity has shifted. The chaos aligned perfectly to create a fragment of order, enough to give Incarnix form. Intent. “Now, it grows stronger, seeking to impose itself upon the world. Should this concept slip through, chaos will follow. Its twisted ideas will seep into the world, corrupting Fate and spreading the concept until, if unimpeded, Incarnix will finally make direct contact with Fate itself, ending existence as we know it.” The words hung heavy and ominous. Hollow took a brief glance at the eel and its horrible eyes, sending a new wave of fear through his heart. He had to look away into the void for some time, tightening his arms around his knees, before regaining himself. “So, if you knew about this, why haven’t you erased it? Or how could you be unable to?” Sylver mimed sitting down. Typically, he would conjure a chair for such, but of course they had to be sparing. “I’ve put much consideration into it. Every option has consequences. It defines its own existence, so the ripples of… “unexisting” it would be significant. Imbalance in the Fundamental Forces. Potentially extensive catastrophe in reality. I cannot simply diminish the concept into oblivion.” He cleared his throat needlessly. “Before you distress yourself, I’m not saying there are no options. It just happens that the best option is also the most difficult.” He was silent for long enough that Hollow felt the need to prompt him. “That being?” “It’s almost poetic. We must fight it with Fate itself. We must create an event of such significance that, upon coming into contact with the event, Incarnix is overwritten, the same way you would have ceased had you failed the Trial of Everything. But as I said, it is no simple endeavor. We need to bring the significance of Fate itself to bear against this concept. Our own significance will not be enough.” Engaged, now, in hope and interest, Hollow took no deliberation before pushing further. “You have a plan, don’t you?” Sylver nodded and smiled benignly, some of his apparent weariness washing away. “It will cause much work for us after the fact, but we must allow Incarnix’s incursion into reality. Like opening a dam, I will direct it unto key areas. Areas of—shall we say—[i]dense [/i]significance.” Sylver chuckled, though how he maintained such humor sitting in front of the present colossus escaped Hollow. “I forget myself. You are the expert in such matters, of course. The incursion should, optimally, be directed upon Nexuses of Fate heavy not for their size or population, but for the individual significance of their contents. This is the best way to mitigate the effects of the event. If matters go well, the act of fighting against the leaking ideas should generate a battle so significant that its concept can best that of Incarnix.” Hollow nodded, following well now that his fears were mostly dispelled—though the looming monstrosity behind them maintained in him a degree of discomfort. Though reading Fate, here, was like trying to do mathematics in a nightmare, his rationality had returned, and he could follow strands and patterns coiling off of Sylver’s words. “You’ve clearly planned this very carefully. Do you know exactly how you’ll admit the incursion?” An amused smile moved Sylver’s face once more. “Oh, I have a few places in mind.”