Temporal Imprint 01

All is quiet across the Hill of Tara.

A full moon hangs high in the velvet night sky, surrounded by twinkling lights of far off places. A heavy scent of ozone seems to blanket the land and not a breeze seems to stir. The green grasses of the Hill seem to glow with an ethereal light as the Moon’s hand reaches out across the rolling landscape. Small rabbits and mice scurry about searching for morsels amongst the trash left behind from the tourists that had just inhabited this site by day. A lone deer stands at the edge of a copse of trees that lines the southern perimeter of the Hills.

A loud, horrible screech calls out to pierce the silence.

Atop the Hill of Tara, just yards away from the Stone of Destiny, a long, jagged line of golden light appears in the air. The screeching grows louder and louder as the golden rictus grows and begins to stretch and swell in size. The line is now a large hole in the air, pouring forth warm, golden light. The screeching has reached its crescendo.

Two figures step out of the hole in the air. One male and one female. The hole snaps shut violently behind them and the screeching stops at once. A tiny tear in the air remains, although neither seems to notice this.

The male advances a few feet from their entry point, as if walking towards the Stone of Destiny.

“Don’t be gettin’ no funny ideas,” the female calls out in a distinctly Creole drawl and the man stops walking. He spins on his heel and smiles at the female.

“Of course not,” he replies in a cool, British tone, “I know why we are here.”

“Be sure you do. We have no room for error,” the woman says as she takes a few steps forward to meet him. She stops up short, standing not a foot away from him. Although she has to look up to him, she manages to convey an air of dignity and command.

“Oh, do give off woman, it was my plan in the first place.”

“And not a bad one at dat, otherwise I would not agree to such things. Should *they* catch us, it will be our very souls laid bare for the Void to consume.”

“Do you really think that, ma chere?”

“Don’ call me that.”

“The Exarchs are just as afraid of the Void as we are – but you aren’t wrong, although I fear it will be much worse than the Void for us.”

“I stand by what I said.”

The man raises his hands and shrugs, “You did, didn’t you.”

“Why did you bring us to this spot if you don’ want the Hand?”

“Ah yes, your time was long before mine.”

The woman looks affronted, “Not so long as that. Why?”

“I left some things behind before I climbed up. They are not far from this Nexus. We should have need of them, I think?”

“They better be worth it. We are to be quick in this, the other eleven of the –“

“They *are* worth it, I can assure you of that,” the man says, cutting the woman off mid-sentence, “If we’re lucky, I might even still have my Mystery Cult lying about loose.”

“Out of the question. Do not rope the Sleepers in to this.”

“They are already *in this*. What we do will alter the course of their entire destinies. They should help if they wish it.”

“The will draw *her* eye. We already ran that risk coming here in the first place.”

“Would you stop arguing with me woman? Of the Thirteen, you and are the most able bodied. We should be working together, not squabbling. Now, just trust me, if I can… What are you staring at?”

The woman is staring past the man. He spins around to see a tall, slender figure sliding towards them. It’s body seems to be made up of black, inky liquid that roils, bubbles, and flows along its swaying form. A sharp, black tentacle seems to shoot from the being, aimed directly at the man. A thunderous, golden nimbus springs up around the man and something unseen cuts the tentacle from the being’s body. The tentacle falls to the ground, and upon collapse, it dissipates into a thick cloud of black smoke.

“Atibon Legba,” the woman whispers before a large orb of white fire springs into existence before her. The fireball suddenly launches itself at the approaching entity. The flames pass right through it, leaving a bubbling, smoking hole in the center of the shadowy creature. It sways for a moment before the hole starts to refill itself with the black, inky substance.

A loud splash suddenly pierces the air and the man and woman spin around to find a second creature writhing on the ground. They look up and see the tear hovering in the air. Black, ink seems to be dripping from the tear.

“We must fly,” the man says.

“This is our fault. We must not run.”

The ink begins to gush out of the tear, forming a third entity.

“*She* has found us. We must leave now, lest we fall and everything along with us.”

The woman nods begrudgingly. They both launch into the air, taking flight at top speed. Within seconds, they are no longer visible in the night sky. The three beings slither back to the tear in the air and surround it. They begin to fade until nothing remains but the tear.