Series: The Clockwork Desolation
The fissure hangs in the air, suspended over red sand and glass. It warps the air around it, folding it into intricate patterns and waves. Electricity reaches out in slender fingers, groping for something, anything, but there is nothing near it for it grab onto. The Fold is hungry, yet there is nothing left for it to feed on.
The Fold is dark, devoid of light. And yet, from just the right angle, images can be seen, images of another world altogether. But then the rift in the sky warps again, folds into itself, and the images are lost. For the moment.
The Fold pulses suddenly and stretches. Its great maw widens and pushes out like a bubble. As it does, something emerges from the bubble. It strains against the bubble, pushing against it, before finally breaking free and emerging fully.
It is the prow of an airship, and as the ship slips free of the Fold, it arrives in a world devoid of life. But then, the airship itself is also similarly empty. It is a ghost ship, pushed here by only the Fates know what. The ship finally glides clear of the Fold’s clutches, the last lashes of electricity dropping from the ship and releasing it into its new sky.
