Hiller's long silver hair stirred in the soft, whispering breeze as he approached the rift, his every step heavy with the knowledge of the duty that was his to bear. Here, at the edge of the Earth's deep scar, he confronted the abyss, a churning, dark vortex that pulsed with malevolence, the prison holding the Evil Supreme and his creatures.
The rift was a constant reminder of what lay beneath, an ever-present darkness contained only by the delicate web of power his father had crafted. It fell to him now to ensure the prison's bonds held firm.
