(Elsewhere...)
Karl's miasma tore open like a wound in space on the other side.
A soundless scream followed…the air itself shuddered,then folded in on itself and through the bleeding rift Karl stepped out, boots hitting ground that wasn't quite solid.
The world on this side was wrong. It was still the Old World… but corruption had taken over the entire stretch. Completely enveloped.
Black mist rolled like slow, breathing smoke, pulsing faintly crimson…as if the darkness itself had a heartbeat.
In his arms, Freya hung limp, small fists curled, pale light trembling faintly at her fingertips. Her hair lifted around her in defiance of gravity. Seemed like she was mumbling something though her lips were sealed, her jaws did not move, not ever her throat worked.
Karl grinned. The miasma coiled tighter around him, drawn to him like adoration.
"Ah…" he exhaled, voice dripping with satisfaction. "Finally."
