The nexus twisted into existence. Pulsating, chromatic, it appeared as an aperture to the unknown. A strange sensation washed over the onlookers, a subtleness of paradox and shifted reality, space alive with thaumaturgic energy.

Kryda the archmage glanced at his Protectors, their hands gripped tightly on their war-staves, their stoic expressions belying a most certain fear. He felt profound respect for his companions.

“Not everyday you ask someone to come along and die with you,” he thought.

The Priest bowed deeply to Kryda, “The nexus has opened. You are the Judger. From you will come the decision to keep this portal open or to destroy it. You must view the other side, to understand what dwells there, and determine if we are threatened. Remember, only from within can the Spell of Undoing be cast. Do you understand that by doing so, so shall you perish? Are you comfortable with the knowledge that your death may vouchsafe our world?”

“I’m not much for ceremony, Priest,” replied Kryda grimly. “We are short on time, we must go.”

The Priest bowed. “Go then.”

Kryda nodded curtly. Inhaling deeply, he ran headlong into the contorting nexus.

And… felt… himself… pulled… sideways…

Into an indescribable void. Weightless, he floated within amniotic ether, feeling nauseous, aloft with no sense of direction. Dimly, he became aware of his Protectors nearby. One of them vomited uncontrollably.

“Look!” said another, pointing to a spot within the void. Kryda swung his head around.

He fought the instinctual horror rising within him. His eyes locked upon a massive form, a chthonic vision of tentacles and eyes and misshapenness. The creature writhed, appendages flailing, the color of brass and moss. One of the Protectors raised his war-staff, preparing to unleash. “Hold your spells!” shouted Kryda. Wrestling with his own primordial prejudices, he said through clenched teeth, “Cast not unless we are attacked first. We don’t know if it’s hostile.” A couple of the Protectors swam in front of him to act as shield.

Kryda looked away briefly to settle his mind. “They also knew of the nexus opening,” he thought. “They are here to investigate. Just like us.” Fear pierced him. These monstrous creatures probably possessed advanced magic. He had flashes of the last Great War, where the world had almost been destroyed, saved at the last moment by the sacrifice of his mentor and the undoing of that particular nexus.

“What do we do?” asked one of the Protectors, terrified despite his training.

Kryda gazed once more at the alien and noticed the portal behind it, a view of its world and beyond. “We must determine its intent,” said the archmage. Slowly, in a manner to suggest passiveness, he began casting the Spell of Insight. The magic coalesced, a gentle probe, stripping away the hideous exterior to view the innermost.

Such purity, an undeniable seraphic light. It almost burned his eyes. Kryda gasped, his arms falling limp beside him.

“What is it? What do you see?”

Kryda heard the tinge of panic. He turned, eyes wide, to the others. “It is… beautiful,” he stammered.

Doubt festered within the Protectors. They could not see what he saw.

Ignoring them for the moment, Kryda prepared himself to approach the great being. He flustered, unsure of what spell to cast or how to communicate. He almost did not see the creature beginning to cast its own spell.

“It’s doing something!” yelled a Protector.

Kryda saw the weave, the familiar patterns of magic. He felt detached, faraway. His shoulders slumped, his soul resigned. A profound sadness overwhelmed him.

The Protectors aimed their war-staves. “What’s going on, Judger?” someone screamed.

Looking up one last time at the gargantuan creature, both beastly and beatific, he whispered, “It has judged us.”

The screams lingered momentarily. The Spell of Undoing wrenched asunder the nexus, causing it to collapse within itself.

Until the sounds, too…

…faded

…into

…nothingness.