Page 51 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

T HE RIFT CONTINUED to widen, to expand, forming a broad, uneven, white glowing chasm, a rip in the fabric of the sky, the plane, and the universe; and from within the newly formed gape emerged the wriggling tip of a massive black tentacle. With a slow swirl, the dark appendage elongated to probe into the high sky of the blue Indicus Plane. An Indici warrior was first to take interest as to why the visitors from the Alpha Plane were gazing at the sky. His reaction inspired another, then another. It was infectious, one by one the other Indici, along with the Viridians shifted their focus upward. In awe, they let their weapons lower as another slim tentacle pierced the glowing veil to peek in from the void beyond. The probing arm was followed by a third, fourth, then at once the rift filled with fifty, then a hundred more, transforming the glowing chasm into a massive maw of writhing, black, rapacious tentacles stretched across the burnt indigo sky.

En masse, the Viridians and Indici warriors buckled to their knees and dropped prone to the ground, arms stretched forward before them, in worship of the great Ancient Ones.

Abby stood stalwart. The brunt of the pulsing blast continued to push his flesh back taut to the sides of his face while the nanites riddling his brain ignited the induction of a billion diatomic flops, flooding his system with DMT.

His body constricted as his muscles tightened.

A bright glow surrounded him; his flesh grew translucent then fell away altogether, leaving only his muscle.

Leta screamed an inaudible, “No!” as she threw herself onto him with a wide embrace and squeezed tight.

The pulse, the plateau, and the dark and torn sky above dissipated.

There was nothing.

A rush of air, a creamy swirl of tangerine plasma.

Then… Somewhere else, but the same.

Leta was in his arms, or at least her translucent form was. Her flesh too was gone and her muscle tissue, like his, glowed a bright, fiery red. Their muscle tissue faded to a fuchsia webbing of a million tiny arterial strands. Then both faded into an ethereal day-glow vapor.

They were hovering midair up above a bare, wind strewn plateau, no Indici, no Viridians, no buildings, no device. The only blue was the crystal clear sky surrounding a bright yellow sun. The air was clear and absent of the heavy ozone. Below them was a small seaside town and calm in her port, a fleet of wooden sailing ships. Abby’s augments were gone. But his mind, amplified by the diatomic flops and free of the psionic blast, was as clear as the air and the sky. He guessed a different plane, a different time. Maybe the Alpha Plane Bermuda, somewhere in the 16 or 1700’s .

Though Abby was without physical form, the air was sweet to the taste, there was the familiar scent of gardenias and the hint of soft music as flickering snapshots of past loves, friends, family, and enemy alike paraded through his conscience, each evoking an every-feeling euphoria that washed over him and had he a material body, he may have been overcome with rage, laughter, or tears. But in this ethereal form, he neither laughed nor cried, rather he experienced an intensity of emotions with an exhilarating calm.

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, their surroundings dissipated again, the creamy plasma swirl returned, and in a blink, the peaceful, clear, quiet serenity was replaced with the deafening shock of thunder as their bodies were pulled back into the psionic bath of the chasmic bridge.

Back to flesh, another quiver rushed through him as alert augments returned to fill his field of vision.

Leta tightened her grip, pulling her into him.

“What happened?!” she screamed.

“It’s the device,” yelled Abby. “It’s like a magnet. It pulled us back.”

“Well,” Leta yelled, “if we can’t flee—”

“We fight,” yelled Abby.

~*~