Prologue [Story v2]

Darkness fills the Void Between. Not the gloom of a cloudy, moonless night, nor the murk of the deepest ocean trenches, nor even the utter blackness of the grave. Light has never, will never, can never exist in the Void Between. It exists beyond the concept of form, time, mass, or energy. It binds every world, galaxy, universe, and dimension to each other, yet it also keeps them separate. Nothing can exist there, for it is not a place so much as an idea, a metaphysical concept.

Yet, still, a voice slashed through the consuming darkness. "Has all been prepared?"

"The Keyss have been formed; the Sspell hath been readied." A sibilant voice responds.

"Our die hath been cast; the Chosen will choose." A third voice, deep and echoing.

On its heels, dozens, hundreds, endless legions chanted, "May their Paths be true."

Power welled up within the Void. It flowed, twisted, seeking in a web across space with no boundaries. Tendrils tunneled across dimensions, violating the inviolable. Each writhed, passing formlessly through countless worlds. One by one, after minutes, hours, years, centuries, they found a suitable candidate and latched on, then burrowed backward across space and time towards their anchor points.

As uncounted entities watched, the tendrils began to pulse. First one, then another, then dozens at once, conveying their Chosen towards the destinies that awaited them elsewhere, elsewhen. Adventure they sought, and adventure they would find, each to their own: new life, new loves, enemies and friends, homes and hearths. And, one by one, the tendrils withered and died, severing the connection, leaving the Void Between pristine once more.