Prologue

The Seventh Unspoken Door has opened.

The stage fell into silence as the spirit lights in the auditorium extinguished, signaling the climax. A final act as a student, a prelude to fame. That was once was forgotten will be remembered, alongside xem. Cast in shadow, Cleo flung the Academy into chaos, the Sliver quickly flowing out with the turn of the knob.

"Sight beyond sight," xe monologued, the door enveloping xem amongst the swallowed auditorium—one last incantation, "Presence beyond presence. Movement of no end. Eternity in a moment. And I... will be Everlasting!"

The door of the Forbidden Goddess, once kept hermetically hidden and regarded in only hushed whispers by the Highst Staff had been blown open, lodging itself directly into Cleo's torso, turning the former student into Her living boundary. Before Her hand could rattle on the doorframe to present Herself in all Her glory, the head Wisards initiated the failsafe—with the entire Academy blinking, disappearing: as if it never existed. And all of the Divine Mesas, the home of the former university, fell silent.

Tomato, a chimera of a biped, was not on campus when this happened. They were on the way, running late to attend Orientation before the school year starts. Hurrying along the silver-granite paths of the Divine Mesas, they unknowingly arrive to an empty canyon, with only a large patch of gravel serving as evidence for the Academy's existence. Taking out the welcome letter in fear of having mistaken the right address Tomato sees the letters distort and shift from their initial positions, eventually stabilising themselves into a message:

Due to a translocation incident involving a rogue alumnus opening the Seventh __Once__- Unspoken Door which leads the passageway to the Forbidden Goddess Whose Name Should Not Be Breathed, classes have thus been cancelled until further notice. For more information and to send potential aid, please venture to the 3rd Deity Quarantine Sphere at your own discretion—coordinates enclosed. Reimbursements for travel far or tuition will not be given.

We apologise for any inconvience this may have caused, the only solace we can offer is the fact that our inconvience is far greater than yours.

— Signed, Head Staff Wisards of the Prestigious Academy of Doors

Uncertain of what to do, Tomato tries heading back to the Portal Station, one of the only means of inter-Sphere travel immediately available, to try and ascertain the situation and to hitch a ride home—fully unaware of what would be waiting them on the other side.

---

Tomato's steps echoes across the road back, one set of hands pulling their quilt closer to the chimera's chest, the other grasping at their knife and scissors as their scan their surroundings for any movement. Walking down the empty streets of the former campus back to the Portal Station feels eerie; it is clear that from the few remaining statues, the carefully trimmed flowers and trees, and the silver-granite cobbled paths, that the campus was an esteemed community—one that no longer exists. The vestiges of a bustling campus full of students and faculty are the only landmarks to suggest that idea of grandeur, as all of its buildings had been consumed. And it's starting to freak Tomato out. The complete and utter stillness of this place is completely foreign: both to the environment and to them. Anxiously, their eyes dart back and forth to see if anyone, or anything, had survived the disappearance.

"Is there anyone in Tomato's sight?"

• Odds: Unlikely given the situation
• Answer: No (82)

As expected, Tomato finds no one else prowling the empty streets other than themself, though this does not offer them any solace from their paranoia. They are certain that someone, just out of view, might be watching them and they are not particularly willing to seek them out. Picking up the pace, the stitchsown sees the Portal Station nearby. Speedwalking towards it, they find the station as empty as the streets around it, save for a single clerk working at the ticket booth.

The clerk is a hawk-man with a messy puff of brown feathers on his head and so tall that even while clearly kneeling down, his head still grazes the ceiling of the cramped booth: making extra effort to resist jolting upwards to prevent a concussion. With eyes devoid of colour, he stares at Tomato with an amused look, recognising them as they approach.

"Dropped out already?" the clerk cawed, "At least you're still in time fer th' transfer." In response, Tomato politely re-introduces him to their middle finger, as he knew full well what occurred before arriving.

The hawk chuckles, "Well, I was waitin' fer ya anyways. After ya darted outta th' door, I couldn't even get out a wordta warn ya in time, but oh well," he cackles louder looking at Tomato's blank expression, "Hope ya enjoyed th' walk."

Curious, the chimera takes out their letter and points to the words "3rd Diety Quarantine Sphere".

"Ya wanna go there?" the clerk stopped laughing, suddenly taking a serious tone, "Sorryta say but that's impossible. I can't just give access to a quarantine sphere, it'll kinda beat th' purpose of one (plus ya'd get me in trouble and we'd both be in th' gaol)"

"Will the hawk-man tell Tomato more information?

• Odds: Unlikely his sudden cautious mood
• Answer: No (60)

Though Tomato knows that he knows more than he's letting on, they understand that they are too adamant to properly get information out of. Though they have the coordinates, without someone familiar with the inner workings of inter-Sphere travel, there's no way to get there. Before pocketting the letter, the chimera looks at the coordinates again, trying to make sense of it:

"fd::ca5:751:31a:317"

But it is no use, they simply have no idea how to make sense of them. However, considering that their dads travelled many times across Spheres due to their jobs and prospective interests, they think that they might have some idea. Tomato doesn't really want to go their themselves, but more than anything they want to go attend the Academy of Doors—though now that seems to be becoming a distant dream. With a sigh, you ask the clerk for a ticket back home, back to the Jeweled Sector.

"Safe travels," he mutters while handing over the ticket, the initial humour in voice now replaced with concern. The ticket enscribes itself onto Tomato's hand, which they promptly use to touch the ether-tronical turnstiles fencing in the station from fare-dodgers. The gate within fades away as the stitchsown passes through, following the directed path pointed to by a light eniminating from the ticket, leading to an ornate, gem-encrusted door. With a touch of the knob, the inscription on their hand is transferred onto the surface of the door, shining brightly within the inner void of the station—

before, without hesitation, thrusting it open.

---

Part 1: The Jeweled District

Whenever Tomato travels to other parts of the Floating City or even down below to the Surface and tell curious passerbys about where they live, they seem to imagine a picturesque landscape reserved only for the wealthy, for striders to walk through with awe and jealousy. It is not. Though the chimera does live in the area, they technically only live in the outskirts beyond the Serpentine River. As gorgeous as the place looks, even with the vast amount of gem cutters and setters around, it is technically one of the poorer areas in the city: as the price of gems are so staggeringly low since they quite literally grow on trees that they might as well be made of plastic (which is consequently more expensive here). Adorned on each street are legions of trees with leaves the colours of rubies, garnets, and citrines growing crystal fruits hanging on its branches somehow still attached despite its weight. They are inedible (by most) but still look pretty at least. Tomato thinks the people half right for envisioning a place of beauty—it is indeed beautiful to look at, but not so much to live there.

The moment the chimera steps out of the portal, they find something amiss. Getting out of the turnstile, you find the station, as well as the streets beyond it, just as empty as the last. The usual sounds of the city were gone, the same eerie quiet followed them home. Walking towards the front of the ticket booth they find the clerk, or at the very least her antennae. If she was trying to hide she had already failed in that aspect. Slowly, she peeked out over the surface of the opening to find Tomato standing there, waving—causing her to jolt back down in terror, antennae still visible. After a moment, she emerges again. She was a human, one of the last remaining that still had any remnant of human features. Other than her two sets of arms, antennae, and non-functioning grey moth wings, she could pass as an completely ordinary human 10¹² years ago. Her face now fully shown, clerk sighs in relief when recognising the stitchsown.

"You're not a monster, right? It's just you, Tomato?"

Depending on who's talking, Tomato thought, I could be a monster but in this context probably not, and shook their head.

"Thank the third constellation," she breathed, "Those crabs have been everywhere, stalking the streets, beating up everyone who they come across and they're so damned huge now. Seriously, how did they get so big, whyyy ughhhhhhhhhh." She shudders upwards all the way up to her antennae. "Then those damned birds are probably profitting off of it too. It's all too much!"

The chimera looked surprised at the mention of the crabs. Living by the river, they were well acclimated with them, having taken some as pets when they were a child, even. They were usually too busy pruning themselves to really be territorial. All of the pets they had were usually quiet and solitary, even given their unusual characteristics of having laser claws—but what wasn't unusual these days? The birds, however... not a surprise. They have always been menaces.

Looking around the horizon of the town however, they could find nothing—perhaps they were further in? Tomato gestured their hand in circle horizontally, asking the moth-human where the crabs are.

"Everywhere,"the clerk whispered, "I'm afraid to even go back home, my shift is almost over. Might stay here for the night and all it overtime." She chuckled at that, albeit hollowly.

"Will she give any information about the Exclusion Sphere?"

• Odds: 50/50
• Answer: Yes (15)

"Huh, that place?" the moth-girl springs up, not minding that her antennae had struck against the ceiling, "I mean yeah I know about the Exclusion Zones in general but not really about how to head over to one... none of the doors in the station can head over there by design. Exclusion Sphere to dieties especially, given how hostile they can be... why are you asking this anyways?"

Tomato decides not to explain the reason why they asked, judging that even if they told her and showed her the coordinates, she probably wouldn't know how to make sense of them either or would keep it secret like the hawk-man did. Instead, they continue onwards, signing a thank you and waving goodbye to the clerk as they turn to leave. Though the chimera hates to admit it, at this point, they are pretty much resigned to the fate of not going to the college they've wanted, which puts a pit in their stomach but ultimately they are forced to accept reality. Feeling sorry for themself, they decide to walk straight home towards the Sillicate Bridge. Further along, the stitchsown still finds the streets away from the station empty: no people speedwalking through the sidewalks and no psycho-chariots, hypertrolleys, or any other vehicles could be seen for miles. The town was completely deserted which deeply worried Tomato; the Jeweled District was not a particularly populated area of the Floating City, but it still was a city area.

But suddenly, they could hear it—the sound of scraping and chittering which was familiar to them but louder than what memory would suggest: yet growing louder still as whatever was making the sound approached. Slowly, two Quartzkrabs amble towards Tomato from the near alleyway—the largest ones they've ever seen. One was particularly big, wearing a mound of citrine over its chitinous body, while the other was slimmer, looking like they would flinch from the slightest movement. Both of them screeched loudly upon coming in front of the stitchsown, as the insects ready their lasered power claws.

Begin Combat