the sylph of the outer forest were nearing extinction, and they were desperate. The dominant races of behemoths were at constant war with each other, destroying the already harsh landscape and obliterating the natural resources that the sylph relied upon.
the dimensional rifts weren’t something to be toyed with, even now that the myths and legends of malignant world-gates had mostly been forgotten. in their natural state they were flickers of light in dark places, much too small for the more dominant races to take note of, but had been an object of wonder for the sylph since the beginning of time.
while on a desperate hunt for food, callisto had taken note of one such flicker in a deadened marsh far east of his settlement. for days after, bleak landscapes and his starving people haunted his dreams, but a small light shimmered in the midst of the despair. he knew what he must do.
weeks later, callisto stood before his simple gate, carved carefully out of a curious bleached wood he found littering the marsh. he had erected it in the place of the flicker, which had abruptly flooded the empty space as though it had been waiting an eternity to do so.
the rift rippled like liquid, but it was what was beyond that had callisto’s attention. through the shimmering ebb and flow was a sky bluer than he ever thought possible, with soft clouds casting faint shadows on a meadow as vast as an ocean.
he shut his eyes and took the first step to what he hoped would be his race’s salvation
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