Interlude II: Something needs a Name.

The formless entity, barely even a thing that could be said to exist on any plane of reality, lingered just beyond the swirling vortex of magic that enveloped the Sunny Day Mall. It had probed and prodded the perimeters of the spell for a fissure, a thinning in the luminescent tide, and at last, it found it—a mere gossamer thread of vulnerability.

The gap was minuscule, scarcely enough for the formless hunger to press its essence against, yet it was there—a loophole within the incantations. It could enter, as an insidious trickle. But the entity was nothing, a void without mass or meaning, and it knew to become something, it needed a name. Names bore power, anchors of intent and selfhood that could bind the incorporeal into form.

So, it did not enter. Not yet. It waited, for the bright light of human consciousness to impose identity upon its emptiness. It would be patient, for time held a different essence to that which was never born. The entity's abyssal anticipation grew, yearning for a name to be granted, and with it, a doorway into reality.