Tears stream down Geyser's cheeks as his Avatar complains about them. The smell of incense fills his mind, extending it into the spiritual realms. He focuses on his breathing, controlling them, using them as a focus for building up the barrier between the mortal and supernatural worlds. Ulrich calls on Jon to take care of Jade Dragon while he joins in on the same Gauntlet project. Holding his Bible firmly in his hands, he calls upon his God to use his deific power to bar away the darkness.
Glimmer manifests in the Adept's sight, the digital being wringing her hands in worry. "This is outside my knowledge, it isn't a computer program or anything!" She reaches out a hand, yearning to be able to reach across the screen and place it on Pixel's cheek to offer comfort. "I can't say for certain, but I think it wasn't a 'they'. Dexter is the expert, but I think it phasing from one place to another means he isn't stuck in one location. But in time? Like we couldn't nail down its location because it was popping in and out of affecting us in time? Maybe?" She perks up slightly at a new thought. "But maybe we got enough of a reading that it could help figure out more about it in the future? Or track it or something?"
Khulai's vision of the Inverted Tower and its earthly counterpart battling for supremacy has its mirror in the Museum. Blasts of lightning and fire are crackling through the actual air, as awesome exchanges of voltaic discharge are exchanged in his mind's eye. As he focuses his latest assault on a point of greatest structural instability, he is struck in the back by one of the energetic breaches in reality, distracting him from being able to last a solid Temporal blow. The Romani Will-worker uses his formidable powers to hold together his Ritual, preventing it from unraveling.
The cracks in reality grow and lengthen as destructive energy enough to slice straight through steel buildings burns across to the near Umbra. The scream of pain and agony rises, and then the world seems to explode in fire and flame. The air that the disintegration beam flows into suddenly clears, and all present nearby can gaze straight across the Veil. A vaguely defined Being stands in its path, part of its body and face eaten away by Master Robertson's ritual. Its unknown purpose frustrated, it is forced to flee. But not before wreaking its revenge!
Reaching forth a hand while it is forced to retreat, time seems to stop. The Being's form attempts to haze and shift to co-exist in multiple locations at once, but whatever power it had spared for this task clearly fails as it coalesces back to its singular form and time resumes. As it grows smaller as it speedily travels away in the Umbra, a vortex forms and grows behind it, absorbing the energy of the offensive Ritual and spewing it in all directions, although it has now changed from a scarlet red to a darker blood color. Much of the altered destructive energy is redirected back at its originators, flooding through the cracks in reality that have not yet had a chance to heal and reform.
While clearly lessened near Master Robertson and the group of newcomers, they are not wholly spared from the conflagration. The flame burns not just flesh but assaults the mind as well. Visions of murderous monsters fill your vision to the exclusion of everything else. A gigantic creature the length of a skyscraper's height consumes the City in ravenous hunger. Smaller abominations come in a flood in its obscuring shadow. In the darkness details come in and out of comprehensibility. Squid-like tentacles, bare skeletons, chimeric mishmashes of different animals, steel rusting in the jaws of an insectoid, maddening clusters of eyes. All nightmares brought to life, assailing sanity while the body is likewise consumed by fire.
And just a seeming moment later it all ends. The Ritual, the sight of the Being, and its vengeance, all gone. In its place is the stark reality of an entire building aflame. Prone bodies are scattered across the entire room, some weakly moving, others ominously still. All of the Magi near Master Robertson and the newcomers are wounded, but none have been fully incapacitated by the backlash.
Rule Number 12: "A soft answer turneth away wrath. Once wrath is looking the other way, shoot it in the head."