Two leviathans are at war in the skies. One is red, the other green. The mountain is on fire, and the jungle boils over, seething with toxic miasma. From the mist, three figures emerge. There is a wizard with a cerulean aura; a warrior with an aura which is vermilion; and there is a scientist, with no aura at all.
From a broken Pandora's box, three spirits emerge, and again, one has an aura of blue, one has an aura of red, and one has no aura at all; and the three spirits merge, not with each other, as they had been, in the box, but with a wizard, with a warrior, with a scientist.
All of these things are happening at once; all of these things are happening like knots, tied in a taut elastic.
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