Across Observable Existence, there were many shelters of THE Loom.
Hidden bastions scattered throughout the Wastes. Some were small. Some were vast, containing vast populations.
But at this moment in time, inside the main shelter of THE Loom, something pivotal was occurring.
At the very peak of a paradoxical mountain that pointed upward and downward and in different directions within a matter of seconds, a single man floated surrounded by terrifying weavings of Paradox. The air of an Absolute was utterly suffocating around him, pressing against reality with weight that declared his supremacy over the aspect he had claimed.
It felt Absolute.
And at the same time, it felt like something else entirely.
