Fire ignited behind the orbs of his deep eyes as he concentrated. He ignored it, familiar with the senseless buzzing as his body complained from overuse. Creating potions of transformation was difficult, complex, and time consuming. Time was what he had the most of; he was blissfully aware of the eternity of time stretching endlessly into echoes of darkness. Time. Alone. He blinked and stood at last, stretching his tense, sore muscles. The body he’d assumed was weak and mortal, easily tired from the endless hours he spent perfecting his transformations and watching the clock of the Western World shift and muddle. His original form was what he desired, and to be united again. But not with his brother and sister who had unceremoniously kicked him out and chased him through the portal for not agreeing with their...

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