The sleek sloop cut through the water, cresting the final wave. Light rain tapping the vessel as it entered a vast orbit of whirling liquid.
With little left to be done, Reidwych gazed out.
It was a brilliant jewel.
Everything flowed around the Sphere's heart, a perpetual pooling of tide. The Gate shone with blazing light, soft as a lighthouse cutting through night, bequeathing the sea beautiful contrasts of grey and gold.
He leaned forth, holding the bow of the ship. Sea mist carried on the wind, whipping his hair. The breeze swirls around the expanse, drawing him closer.
From the sphere, an echo, a whispering song. Subtle, indescribable; It promised something immeasurable. He smiled, only seconds now.
The hull groaned as the ship kissed the light. The Gate pulsed, the radiance to drown out all noise, and for a moment everything stilled. The raging water, the wind's gale, and even his heartbeat.
Then, in an instant, he passed.
Reidwych fell, and saw himself falling. Into the great whirlpool, The sea swallowing him whole, the water bent into a tunnel boring through the world. His perception flashed, as direction lost meaning, there was no up or down, nor left or right.
There was only ahead–
Into flowing water comprising the adit. It shimmered, he reached to touch it. But had no hand, no arm, no body in this surreal in between. Then, for a moment he thought there was another. A man reflecting in the water, in the likeness of himself , but not him.
He called himself "Cl–" —the sound never finished
A Chime rang. All liquid briefly rippled, everything turning white.
Reidwych coughed and woke. He was lying on his vessel, The Sky stretched above, an endless, eerie blue-green. He stood, looked out.
His ship was adrift, miles from land. Ahead, a mountain range spanning the entirety of the horizon. Their features curved and bent upward,the peaks breaking into countless islands defying gravity. A multitude of color filled distant land. Bone-white rock faces, and blood-red leaves punctuated by towering trees of royal blues. All in the backdrop of the sea-green sky.
Reidwych laughed at it all. The magnitude and wonder, now he of the few who held another realm in sight.
He closed his eyes, remembering the linger of the whispering song.
He had reached it–
Kambo, the Mutant realm.
(Except from 'The Gates' by Great mage Reidwych, Circa 101)