The void between dimensions was not a place of silence, but a screaming expanse of raw, unformed energy. It was a graveyard of failed realities and a nursery for monsters too large to inhabit a single world. Deep within this abyss, seated upon a throne carved from the calcified hearts of dying suns, sat the Red Dragon Emperor.
His physical form was an impossibility in the Eternal Sky Realm; his very presence would have caused the laws of physics in Eternia to shatter like glass.
He was a being of "Concepts" as much as flesh, a sovereign of a galaxy where fire was the only law. His eyes, each the size of a tectonic plate, blinked as he felt the final connection to the Red Dragon Spire in the Eternal Sky Realm snap.
He did not roar in anger. Anger was a mortal emotion. He felt only a clinical, cold irritation. One of his many fingers in the universe had been pricked.
