A ship drifted through the aether of space, a blessed vessel of the empire of Holy Terra. A beautiful if small vessel, meant more for transport for a single being rather than housing a crew. It held the basic shape of one-man space vessels, a cockpit in front of a body of machinery and wings, but was highly decorated to show the rank of the one who commanded it. The ship bore multiple carvings in its surface, and armour plating made to resemble the body of an eagle, shining white and gold. The propulsion system rested beneath each wing, spewing red energy as the vessel tore through the nebula it resided in.

The pilot was ser Tiberius Aquila, imperial paladin of Holy Terra's blessed army. A highly experienced man, who had served in many crusades against the demonic creatures that resided in the aether. He was armoured fully, encased in a suit of advanced powered armour. A standard of Holy Terra's paladins, it was a hardsuit made of various metals and polymers, built in a way that increased its user's strength and reflexes. The suit itself was highly decorative. Above the undersuit, which bore a texture resembling chain mail, multiple heavy plates built in a shape reminiscent of gothic plate interlocked. Each was white, bearing multiple gold trimmings and carvings, encasing his body fully. The chest bore an image of an eagle, wings spread, and each pauldron bore the symbol of the empire. A short cross, and various writings in a language resembling latin along the trim. A red surcoat was worn as well, between the undersuit and the plating, reaching his ankles. It too bore gold trim, as well as a complicated embroidery.

He flew in silence for a while before his ship's onboard AI spoke. "Warning: multiple disturbances have been detected. Be wary of aetherial rips," It said. Tiberius frowned beneath his helmet. Rips could mean multiple things. A black hole just beyond his field of vision, an approaching ship leaving warp speed, or perhaps worst of all, a hellgate.

The last would prove to be the cause. In front of him, the universe's already-malleable laws of space and time were disregarded. A hole, one that was bright red and pulsating, appeared with a horrific sound that came from within. While the aether lacked breathable air, the dimension on the other side did not, so for a brief moment, the screams of a million damned souls were picked up by his ship's sensors.

A battle began immediately. Tiberius' ship fired bolts of concentrated mana from its weaponry, mounted along the wings and in the ship's eagle-like head. In return, the demonic vessels sprayed otherworldly flames at his ship. They were also magical in nature, and tore through his shields. The first system to be disabled was his weaponry. Left defenseless, his propulsion followed, and then extended life support. 

Alone, he was overwhelmed, and the other vessels continued along. There were moments of panic as the AI rapidly attempted to divert power, but when it became clear that it was hopeless, Tiberius resigned to fate. A quiet prayer was given, interrupted by the warning of another aetherial rip.

It was...different. Like a black hole, pulling in all around it, but not destroying it. A still-open warp travel route? No, no, they sealed behind the ships that entered.

So what [i]was[/i] it?

As he pondered this, he realized too late he was being dragged into the rip's gravity. A bright light blinded him as he crossed its event horizon, and was taken to places unknown.

---

In another world, in another time, the day was calm. In the past of the world of Velwin, the gods themselves had battled, and the one that formed from their deaths ravaged the planet. It had been stopped by a group of heroes, purified and returned to its state of slumber. One of them, Magnus Alondite, continued his service to the world as a holy knight of the goddess Alesia. Knowing the truth behind his goddess' existence had been a hard time in his life, but he had since learned to accept her regardless, with an even stronger faith than before.

His many friends and loved ones lived on, and they often met. But his newest quest was one he would have to take alone. Even his trusty steed could not accompany him, and was left in the care of his family. He had recieved the message telling him of this necessary journey not from his own god, who rested beneath the world, but from another that had given him aid. He bid farewell for now, but promised to return.

Dressed in his armour, a full set of plate made from the forged scales of a legendary dragon and a blessed surcoat, and bearing his weapons, he journeyed to the goddess' dwelling in the land of the Alftari. Welcomed by old accomplices, his approach to the goddess' throne was met with a respectful bow of her head.

She told him of his journey, one to a world that was not their own. He would be sent away, and after the quest was complete, would return with the aid of a trinket of the goddess'. A small branch, carved with various symbols, was given to him.

Magnus knelt, and the goddess raised her hand, sending him to the other world through a portal. He closed his eyes in preparation, just as he was surrounded by an extremely bright light.