Above a vast sea that stretched far beyond the horizon, the breeze moved with an eerie calm.
The waters were still, without tides, no waves, no crashing surf. Just a clam, unnatural flow that stood in stark contrast to the chaos engulfing the rest of Ares.
And upon this sea, a congregation of Ares' most powerful beings had gathered.
Saints.
The strongests from every race stood in a loose circle, eyes fixed on the anomaly hovering before them.
A massive rift, like a cloth torn open in the center, hung in the air. At its core swirled a black mass, twisting endlessly, giving off steady pulses of dynamis. With each pulse, the wind and sea shifted slightly, pushing and pulling away and towards.
The Saints wore frowns as they stared at it. Once in a while, cold glances were exchanged between them, but no one stepped forward, nor made any move.
