No idea about this image but I liked it.
Oh, and this is set during the Faerie Apocalypse that gives this setting its name.
On Halloween, 2011, when the walls between worlds were thinner than they had ever been, the woman called The Cat Who Walks Through Walls (because her Mentor had been fond of Robert Heinlein, in his day and in her day) left her kids with her sister, as per their arrangement, and slipped out between those world-barriers.
SHe was gone for hours; to her senses, it was days — and maybe years. It was hard to tell, in some of the blank places she found herself.
When she returned to her sister’s home, she had with her a very tall, broad man with red hair, wearing a collar made of plaques of enameled wood.
Her sister, who had spent a few bored days — in that time when the world was falling apart but there was nothing to do but plant, and build walls, and wait, and pray — reading all of The Cat’s Sandman collection — stared in horror. “Is that—”
“He is.” She had a look best described, unfortunately, as cat-who-ate-the-canary.
“You can’t. You didn’t. Sheba, you Kept Destruction?” Do you know what the Endless do to people who capture them?”
“I read the comics too, Mags. He came willingly.” Behind her, the big man grinned. He certainly looked like he’d come willingly. “Besides, I’m not even sure you can Keep an Endless, but we said the words, and the word did a little ripply thing.” Sheba, the Cat, shrugged. “I thought, maybe-”
“Oh, you were thinking?” Her sister scoffed. “You just went an’ brought an Endless to our world, no offense, sir-”
“None taken.” His voice was like the first warning signs of an earthquake.
“Brought - brought Destruction here, as if we are not in the midst of war and famine and horror already - and you thought?”
“Mags.” Sheba’s tail was lashing. “Mags, the thing is, he thrives on destruction. But uh. He can control it.”
“I can’t stop it,” he warned. “No matter what the world. But it’s possible I can channel it. The fate of this world can be horrendous - or it can be merely bad.”
“Oh. Well. When you put it that way.” Mags glared at him, hands on her hips. “You’re going to, what, channel the destruction? Where?”
His grin was large. “I was thinking perhaps on the ones who brought it. Forget about more buildings being ruined, roads being torn up, pipelines broken. Instead, all of that hatred on five, six would-be gods, and the ones aiming the armies at them. How’s that sound?”
Mags took a half-step back, considering. “Well, then. That sounds like you should come in and get some sweet tea before you head out. That’s likely to be quite a task, even for an Endless. Come in, Mr. Destruction. Come on in, Sheba. Looks like it’s gonna be an interesting November.”