Crash

The last Gatecrasher falls, and the Haze crashes the Gate.

---

#?!: "I'm alive, Mother."

The shadowy outline of a woman walked out of the Caliginous Soul, her wings half-folded behind her, a dagger dripping moonlight held loosely in one hand. Her other hand was clenched into a fist, holding two separate chains that reach further into the black, which formed other shapes as she moved forward. The Wings of Night stumbled forth, the fires of the Eshtayiv glowing in his eyes. Agatha Hagglethorn followed, her body lithe and tall and young, the weight of ages darkening her gaze.

#?!: "Father..."
Wings: "You are no child of mine, ghost."
#?!: "I remember. I see her still. The red-haired demon."
Wings: "Red hair... Father?"
Aggy: "Don't listen to it. It's trying to—"

The ghost turned, one half of her face hidden from the Wings, shuffling to create a mask made of paper-white skin.

#?!: "I'm sorry, Aggy. I had to protect the children."

Aggy wilted, her eyes clouded by some force unseen.

Aggy: "Oh... The children. The children are in danger?"
#?!: "Yes, Aggy. They're coming to take them."
Wings: "No... No more. Never again."

The Ghost of What Was smiled softly, and proceeded further into the dark.

---

Ilvarti stepped out of the shadow of shadows, his ebony blade dragging against the ground. He watched as the light of his old master's eyes became a pinprick, and a new light appeared from the way they had came. The ember of a cigarette, pulsing as Wyatt breathed in and out, the smoke coiling down around him to create the path on which his party walked.

Chamas: "The fuck you doing here?"
Ilvarti: "My lady has need of me."
Abelina: "Tesin's here already?"

Ilvarti shook his head, and Wyatt's eyebrow raised in understanding.

Wyatt: "No shit... We're later than I thought."
Anastasia: "Might I suggest an increase in pace?"

Wyatt nodded, one shoulder rising as he stuck his hand wrist-deep into his duster, and pulled out a revolver that should have been on display at a museum. Chamas followed suit, his left arm extending from a stump into a caustic, ethereal hand, as Abelina summoned a staff from the metal about her person, and Anastasia flexed on gauntlets that ended in feline claws at her fingertips.

Wyatt: "Nassistra, if you'd please."

Ilvarti cooed, his greatsword lifting from the earth as a tremendous darkness built around it, rising in an arc to cut the shadow of shadows.

---

The blade cuts the shadow, and the shadow cuts the dream, and the dream fades...