The Multiverse War, Part One

Chapter One

AN: The above image is an Aurora Borealis in Norway, caused by electrically charged particles produced by the sun. However, in our case, the appearance of the lights above Seattle is caused by the magical rift opening and shifting due to Kaldrun's manipulation of the magical energies.

October 21, 2017

12:52 AM

The scream of distant sirens pierced the air as Erin Matthias turned sharply down a narrow alleyway on that cold winter night in Seattle.

She had been running from the police for what felt like hours, clutching the book close to her chest. She stopped and leaned against a dank brick wall to catch her breath, confident that she had lost, or was at least far enough ahead of, the cops. Erin's labored breaths came out in small white clouds, dispersing before her grassy green eyes that glinted in the light of the moon and the golden aurora borealis, both of which were soon to be obscured by the clouds that always seemed to hang over this city. As her breathing became more regular and controlled, she slowly reached inside the satchel she was carrying, her fingers coming in contact with the leather spine of the Necronomicon she had stolen from a library here in Seattle. Of course, Erin had no interest or belief in supernatural things such as spell-books, but there was a man looking for a Necronomicon, willing to pay top dollar, in cash, for a "legitimate" copy of the legendary grimoire. To Erin, cash was everything. She was a fugitive in several states and couldn't afford to have anything that could compromise her identity. No driver's license, no I.D., and no bank card. Erin reeled and quickly drew her hand away from the leather-bound spell-book upon realizing that she had been stroking the spine.

The sirens had grown more distant, Erin noticed. She sighed and ran her hands through her shoulder-length blonde hair. While in the process of buttoning her satchel back up and beginning to walk down the alley, she tripped over something long and thin, like a wooden board. Catching herself, she looked to the prone form that she had the fortune to collide with. Blinking, she realized it had grunted when she kicked it. Erin quickly stood up and tried to make out what - or who - she had fallen over. The form groaned and stirred, rising slowly. For a moment the moonlight revealed a tall, heavily tattooed, shirtless male, clutching a stitch in his side. He seemed to keep rising, so extremely tall was he. Erin was tall for a white girl, five-foot seven, in fact. But...this guy seemed like he was at least seven feet tall. The longer Erin stared, the stranger the stranger seemed. He had swirling purple tattoos all across his chest, arms, and back, and cascading silver hair down that same back, and across his shoulders. His face and chest was adorned with scars that must have been deep gouges before they were carved into his lean, muscular form. Along with the scars, he had unkempt facial hair of the same sterling silver. He turned to gaze at Erin, and she felt as though she was being seen through, as though his eyes pierced her soul and in that single glance he knew her better than she knew herself. Had she wanted to tear her eyes from that gaze, she wasn't sure she could. She realized his eyes, which were an even more bright green than her own, could be seen easily in the dark, as if there was a light behind his somehow unnatural orbs.

After a moment, she spoke first, "Hey there...bucko..."

The man stared for a moment, unsure. Erin spoke again, hesitantly, "Sorry for...Tripping over you..."

The man opened his mouth as though to speak, but closed it again. His eyes narrowed, and Erin began to feel a slight headache forming in the left side of her brain. However, as fast as it had formed, the headache receded, leaving her feeling slightly...dirty. Once more the man opened his mouth, but this time words formed successfully.

He spoke bluntly and croaked, "I need help."

Erin frowned, "What do you--"

The stranger had shifted, letting Erin see that the stitch the man was clutching was in fact a massive wound that drenched his hand and torso in blood. Erin's face paled and her jaw tightened. She didn't have a phone, and couldn't call for help. She looked down, and considered. One of her safehouses was nearby, a large metal crate by the docks that had a bed and several useful things, such as a first aid kit. When she looked up he had moved closer and once again she was overwhelmed by his sheer height. He reached down to her head, his hand enshrouded in a pulsing green energy that Erin felt instinctively afraid of.