In the spiraling network of cocoons in a lonely, grey plane of existence, one cocoon, just one out of what could have been an infinity, shuddered. Unbeknownst to the vast majority of sentient life, that was the first a cocoon had ever moved in a number of years that would have been incomprehensible to the human mind.
At the very least, none of those orbs of cosmic silk had shook like that since the birth of the star that created the sol system.
A black clawed hand jutted out of the silk, tearing through its weave. Another hand followed, and together, they pulled, tearing open the cocoon.
Valera emerged. In this colorless realm, her eyes stood out the most in its redness. But it was a faint red, one that hearkened to the light of a dying ember.
She was tired. Thoroughly tired. She had drained almost every inch of her power, and she felt it in aching that went deep down into her very bones, in her flesh that felt like it was ready to tear apart at a moment's notice.
