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You reach out and touch a timewarped scar.

You feel a growing power blossom beneath your fingertips as you reach out towards a timewarped scar, and a delighted laugh escapes your mouth as you wish this alternate you a life of happiness and joy in her success. You feel a sense of the same come through as you briefly touch your finger against hers, glimmers of her timeline leaping through.

The scene captured within the scar shifts and changes, and you witness a wild celebration carried through dust-strewn streets. Revellers dance and laugh and sing out praises to someone whose name is lost in the din, flinging garish globs of colour back and forth between themselves in a city-wide food fight.

As you feel your psyche assaulted by the vagaries of time, a flutter of wings - quick as a hummingbird and half as loud - passes by, and the saccharine scent of sugar and rum instantly releases the pressure. You glance up in an attempt to see your saviour, but there naught but the sugar-coated trail of a rose-gold blur.

You can see her there, the saviour of Creation, at the head of a long line that winds down Avechna's Peak. So many displaced and hungry gratefully accept large bowls of food as she gleefully drops the garish stew into their bowls; too hungry to offer their disquiet at the yellow globs that can be seen floating within.

A great roar threatens to burst your earbuds as you catch the barest glimpse of a golden-haired faeling sitting atop the back of the Guardian Drachou as he flies away from a ruined, smouldering city. She forms shapeless flares of power that lance out to strike at a nebulous darkness in raw, beautiful explosions, her face twisted in despair and loss.

As the last vision fades from the scar, it shudders, sealing itself with a beauteous glow moments later.

You reach out and touch a timewarped scar.

You reach out and press your palm to a timewarped scar, letting temporal energy course through your being. You sense thoughts not of your own yet so familiar there cannot be anything but - it is triumph, determination, and a hunger for the next step. That last one is yours but you realise you know well it was not your time yet and you send that thought, that decision, into the scar to assert your own reality.

The scene within the scar is wreathed in a foggy shroud, the dusky streets of Magnagora where a procession of fiends and citizens chants someone's name over and over. An ashen figure can be seen standing victorious atop an impossibly tall construction site, looking down at the celebrations impassively.

Through the scar you can see a trio of men, each more peculiar than the other. One is a hulking being with silver orbs for eyes, the second wears a long monocular visor, and the face of the last is covered by a plague mask. The bizarre meeting of minds is held within an iron contraption that races across an earthen locale.

Carried upon inky wings streaked with white, nighthawks circle an immaculately-dressed aristocrat in another glimpse within the scar. Down on one knee and prayer at his lips, he summons forth something massive from the ground as crooning shadows fill your view and push you back to your own timeline.

Though dwarfed by a massive underground structure of smog-clad dark granite, the saviour of Creation is no less imposing as the vision shifts. There he stands, ordering assistants scuttling in and out of the building like a general on a battlefield. "More test subjects!" he orders, "Just no swans!"

As the last glimpse of another timeline fades, so too does the scar.

You reach out and touch a timewarped scar.

As you reach out and press your palm against a timewarped scar, there is a huge ripple not unlike a crash of something heavy into water. The ripples fan out across the scar, bringing with them visions of another time.

Through the scar you glimpse the broad form of a human standing amidst smog-wreathed towers, his cloaked head held high as he gazes unmoving over the crowds that cheer and swarm below him.

The crackling edges of the scar shift to reveal the distant image of a human in full plate armour standing frozen amidst a fierce battle, a tiny rodent clutched between his gauntleted hands. A determined, hungry grin is his only expression.

Surrounded by the fluttering edges of temporal chaos, a tall human stands - his martial form enveloped in a roiling, hungering darkness that shifts with the occasional silhouettes of many-headed beings.

For a heart-stopping moment, you find yourself face to face with a cloaked human of blank expression, as if he were standing immediately the other side of the scar. Then you blink, and he is gone.

Then in a rush, all of the temporal energy coalesces into a tall figure that mirrors you almost completely but for small, subtle differences, his hand pressed against yours.

"zagreus343349"               Kalas Zagreus
Kalas Zagreus stands here with a stern gaze.