The space around Theron solidified. If before it had been the vaguest of feelings, now it felt as though the hand of a god had constrained the very air around him.
Heavy and shuddering, it squeezed down as though to take his life in a suffocating vacuum of air.
Theron's aura flared.
Space reacted to a surge of heat and cold, a dichotomy of dancing, fluctuating temperatures that oscillated with the pace of Theron's will. In that moment, the old woman seemed to feel something slip from her control and Theron took a step forward.
Chi.
Space shattered, the space Theron had just been standing in folding in on itself. If one looked right through it, it would look as though the scenery on the other side had been distorted and compressed through odd, mirrored angles. Straight lines became crooked and curved, and curved lines became sharp and angled. Up was down and down was up, a mishmash of confusing sensory signals sending even one's Third Eye into a spiral.
