@Blizz: Your prayers go unanswered, as there is no one to hear them. The veil must be restored. Its spell is complex, linked to the soul of the Sorcerer Supreme. Without that office being whole, without you all acting in unity, it is impossible to perform. A fractured veil will not stop Ananym. It must be repaired in its entirety.
@KazAlkemi: You attempt to work the deep magics, but it slips through your grasp like water. The portion of the veil you had attempted to restore shatters, and in fact, it is not just that piece - but another. More damage is done than repair.
@Trainerblue192: You piece together a fragment of it, restoring one small portion of the barrier, yet you feel in your bones that it will not be enough. The spell must be completed as intended, or your efforts will be futile. Your attentions would be better spent on the pentagram fueling the infernal assault.
@BlueSky44: Young one, the magicks respond to you this time - as you recite the incantation correctly. It is fortunate that the All-Tongue works for text. A small fragment of the veil is repaired, but it is not enough. It cannot be enough.
Runa the Grey
Location: New York City
Skills: N/A
Spells: N/A
They had heard all these things before, from travelers who had reached the Wastes, had jumped to the End and saw in horror that only they remained, that every other creature was gone, that the promise of Ragnarok had not been fulfilled. They were the breaker of cycles, the breaker of chains. Not everyone could see the vision, could see the necessity of her actions. So she had killed those travelers, had refused to allow them to alter events, to create another stream in time, another reality where her loved ones would have to suffer once more.
Life was suffering.
Life was pain.
Life was agony.
She would break these chains.
Ananym was gathering the power to bring the Elder Gods to Midgard, to use the weakened veil to allow them to escape their prison. Yet the same power could be used to destroy, to end - to cease this narrative, this story that refused to end. It would spare them all. It would be painless, quick, fast.
"I cannot do that either," Runa said, as she was asking to stop Ananym's pentagram. "I will have need of those magicks."
She did not answer Carolina, nor Max, nor Jack. They had killed a hundred Max's. They knew what he would say to them, they knew how his screams would sound upon their ears. Yet Klara, Klara was their kin. Klara was a child, an innocent.
They had not killed very many children.
So they decided to answer - to speak to her the words that had fallen only upon dead ears before.
"It is a long tale, so listen well," Runa began, breathing in deeply.
"When I was not yet old in the way I am old, and not young in the way you are young, I prepared to let my husband go. He was of Midgard, a people not built to last, not built to remain. Yet when Loki presented me his severed head, I realized I could not allow it - I could not bear to be separated from him. I tried to raise him, to free him from Hel's clutches, but I could not restore him - could not restore his soul."
"I witnessed Ragnarok - I saw my father slain by his brother, saw my husband's murderer escape his bonds, saw the dead sail, the giants revolt, the Midgard serpent thrash. I gave my eyes to Mimir's well, I paid the price for the deepest of magicks, to learn Himmelfartsdag."
"I ascended my family, my people - they became a collective god, a Dominion outside of space and time, no longer vulnerable to the ravages of Ragnarok. I paved the way in blood and tears, fueling the magicks with ritual sacrifice. I gave my heart. I gave my dying breath. I gave my future, my past, my present to break the cycles, to break the chain."
"And so I cannot aid you. When this universe dies, your souls will be at peace. And perhaps then, I may rest."
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