Birth
The portal stands as a luminous rupture in reality, an ever-shifting threshold between the known and the unknown. Its shape resists definition—one moment a swirling vortex of color, the next a fractured doorway suspended in the void. Light bends and warps around its edges, cascading in iridescent streams that bleed into the surrounding space like liquid energy. Within its depths, fragments of other worlds flicker—a glimpse of golden skies, fleeting silhouettes, or the hint of something waiting just beyond perception. The air hums with possibility, an unspoken invitation to step forward, to surrender to the unknown, to let the portal rewrite the boundaries of existence itself. It is not simply an opening; it is a question waiting to be answered.