The endless sand of Underworld was silent in the strangest way possible.
Not because there was no sound, but because the sound itself seemed to be irrelevant here.
Conceptual forces were clashing, authorities colliding, forces that no mortal ear could ever register were being thrown and blasted.
The rift pulsed like a black sun, each beat tearing faint cracks through the surrounding space.
The being beyond reached through it with mechanical certainty, as if the tearing of this reality was simply a matter of procedure.
Hades moved among the Primordials, Desmos flashing in arcs of his authority.
And while he and the Primordials attacked, his Twelve Patrons spread themselves across the rift's edges, holding it in place.
Hecate's voice rang sharp over the din.
"Keep the rift stable! Every tear it makes expands the breach, you let go for one moment, and it's over!"
The patrons answered her in unison, each one using their full authority to keep the rift from even expanding.
