Successful(?) Attempt

Treachery

An abandonment faced, one to have pressed a "retreat." Into seclusion, a fact perhaps not hidden - no efforts on the part of he, to delve into obscurity; matters pressing in a more direct way. The man, takes leave of Alteros -- finding little time to abscond properly. Notes taken, children received, and pressure few belongings to have been gathered.

Some to go to Byson, among "kin." A fact found debatable? Perhaps - a maddening feeling of distrust was welling up within him, a situation to cause for an urge to "grow." Power sought, a completion of his training, and a culmination of a skill thought to be prudent in acknowledging the power needed to covet safety.

In the Bygone, alone - the power felt, a seeping of mana, to infuse his own into the air; multiplying, and maximizing effects. The coating ritual, the cognitive thought process to command, and act with anonymity; calculating for him, reflexive motions to pave a way sculpted in the past. The ability of temporal shifts, to drive a wedge into the life stream itself, torn asunder for one to make way for a bridge through such a catastrophic task.

The hand extended, as it had always been. The concentrated mana centered, a point found - set for manipulation. A pause, followed by an action to be considered knowing; a tear, the outcome. Small, an insignificant grip on the seams -- expansion the goal, the wish. Forced entry was a thing to be tried now, his success would be grand today, felt the man.

Pulling, splitting, combing as he does this. Rapidly pouring fuel into it, sustaining it against the will of Eternia itself; Lifestream bent to the demands of one who would selfishly have it broken for their needs. Such a power, such an awe-inspiring ability; perfection.

The feelings to come from it's opening, now truly cemented - taken in, accepted. Not an act purely of this scene, but the evolution of thoughts, the including of a plague to become fact, what he was, what he sought, and what he hoped to achieve. That ire, always present, no physical form, only an inkling in the back of his mind - to radiate, as did his fire, an ethereal existence would be given to it. Transparent, for the most part.

Depravity: Ounces, or slivers were not the fall-out this time; masses, in a sense. Were the received "gift." Sign of his achievement! For before him, lied a gaping maw, of energies made by him, the conduits connected -- the flow of power, while imperfect, were stabilized.

A foot is pressed forward, there is no hesitance; a situation to pertain to life or death(?) Through it one walks, through it they phase, an image in mind. Oh no where in particular, no home imagined, no point of importance held within. A sparse placed, the imagery of the green fields of the Bygone, where he was -- a few distances off from original point, he arrives.

Intact, safe, empowered. An ability realized, to look back at the portal, still there. His success is not one to have glee felt afterwards, not a joyous moment for him. It is a stepping stone, a point paved, for whatever else is to be exacted -- tools gathered, an ever-expanding arsenal for he, to utilize. A means to an end, one he did not know himself, but was to be applied, needed to be applied.. in a time where an opposition was felt enacted against person.
(Tertius Kyros)