Konstantin did not wait for their answer. He pivoted on his heels, tracing in the air of the pocket dimension a seal of rupture with the tips of his bloodied fingers. The silver lines blazed one last time before cracking, and the space around them tore like worn canvas, as the pocket dimension collapsed.
The blinding light of the real world struck them full force, but it was no longer the world they had left. The sky above was black. Not the black of night, no. A living black, swarming with silhouettes falling in spirals, their membranous wings tearing the air. There were dozens, hundreds, thousands of them. When Konstantin looked closer, he noticed that the gates of the Abyss had opened.
