The shards of glassy material had been collected over many years, rarely would her trips to The Wreck yield any. Now, however, she had enough to attempt what she had so long ago witnessed an omnimorph do. She would rip through the very fabric of existence. A crude machine of her own design stood before her, constructed from salvage and rubble. Standing atop it she placed the many shards in a rough circle, stepping back to power up the great machine. It hummed to life, shaking the ancient temple she had made her home. The shards lifted off their platform, hovering in the pattern they had been laid in. She twisted a large dial in front of her, and each shard seemed to embed itself in the air around it as though it were made of soft plaster. Her jaw clenched in excitement and anticipationâŠit was working. Turning another dial, the shards began to glow with energy. Each fragment now dragging outward from the center of the circle, seeming to slice or unzip reality as it went. A strange world was revealed behind a paper-thin layer that was her own, its sliced segments blowing like frayed cloth in the breeze. She wanted to celebrate, to shout, to scream. Instead, she stepped through.
