𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒽 | 𝒟.𝑀.

79 | ﴾ Grindelwald ﴿

Like a television set fighting for a clear signal, my perception flickered between what straggling vision I had left in the Realm of Life through my physical body, and the in Realm of Moons as a prisoner soul.

I stumbled around through the tall purple foliage and drifting spores. The gateway was just a step away and I reached my hands out helplessly to the flimsy barrier, banging hopelessly against it, yet it successfully retained it's fortitude against my will to escape.

Through the film I could see myself in the real world possessed with glowing lavender eyes - it was akin to a terrible kaleidoscope of mirror images staring at each other, or a rapidly switching channel between viewpoints of a role playing game. The nausea was unprecedented, and I found myself falling to my knees in the Black Swan ballet dress.

All manner of winged beasts were flocking with unique permission through the boundary above me, some of their talons coming far too close to my hair causing me to duck and cover my head in the fetal position.

Behind my eyelids I was able to visualize my huddled form cowering pathetically amongst ferns from the vicious dragons that rushed out into the Realm of the Living. Ascelin brooded in place like she were carved out of stone, unfazed and unblinking as they whipped around her, until an especially monstrous creature passed by and she was gone on it's back.

The wake of silence in the realm was unsettling, only interrupted by a cheerless, hollow growl of wind throughout the complex landscape.

I spent what felt like an eternity slamming my fists on the gateway portal which had gone milky and visually impermeable. 

"No! No!" I screamed in utter agony, as flickering visions of precious architectural icons were levelled worldwide on her journey to gateways; the Eiffel Tower collapsing, Cambodian spired towers crumbling into large blocks, the central colosseum in Rome, Italy, reduced to ashes as she forced a dragon to dig underground in the center of the stadium, where a gateway belonging to Anubi, the Creator of Death, was buried and forgotten millennia prior.

All the while she sicked her predatory, aeronautic monsters on helpless muggles. The world was effectively on fire in no time; especially those most unfortunate areas that were encompassing gateways.

Blinking through tears I stood, wandering backwards into the woods without any certainty of where I was going. Several times I ran clean into trees and rocks when I lost command of my eyes as they switched back and forth. We were merged somehow, she and I, and I knew instinctively that she was utilizing those moments to watch what I was doing in return.

I eventually came upon a cliff face that dropped off into oblivion below. 

Little pebbles that were knocked off by my slippers flew thousands of perceivable meters downwards into nothingness. I panted, running my fingers through my floating hair in devastation as the imagery of Big Ben groaning into unidentifiable debris itched across my prefrontal cortex. She had reached England already.

Dozens of rainbow toned planets watched my like cycloptic beings in the sky as I cried forlornly on a rock outcropping, shadowed by the tall trees I had just popped out from. The optical poetry of the landscape was highly refractive, shimmering with sensational birefringence in the leaves of the dark trees. If it was not such an apocalyptic scenario I would be partial to striking inquisition regarding the breathtaking biome.

"My, my...she waited nearly a century for you. Tell me, are those wings authentic?" a drawling voice calmly spoke out of the bioluminescent trees. "If so, I must say I am a tad disappointed that I have been so wondrously upstaged by my replacement."

I turned in a fright, makeup running down my cheeks from my Black Swan act. I was in fact still wearing the large golden wings from the World Cup.