demonicism

Hell rains down on earth on a breezy Sunday afternoon. Or, rather, it seeps up. Humans have long been aware of the influence of other dimensions, pressing against their own like pages in a book. Occasionally, the ink stains, allowing small-scale interactions between planes. This is not an inkblot. This is a gunshot, tearing through both physical terrain and the incorporeal barriers between dimensions.   Objects and beings alike are scattered throughout foreign lands, igniting a chaotic mix of magics and creatures. Earth, the centerfold of the universe's tattered book, receives most of the refugees. The denizens of hell are demons in name, but rather variegated in their natures. The gray skin and eldritch gazes don't help their perception, even if most of them are only children. The faery realm leaks high elves and tiny brownies alike, into a world choking on smog and saturated with electricity that burns the plant cells in their skin. Among the other asylum seekers are selkies, shades, sirens and satyrs, whose presence encourages Earth's native cryptids to step into the light (carefully, with wide-brimmed hats, in the case of vampires).   Trapped together, humans and mythical creatures begin to participate in cultural exchange, leading to questions without simple answers that humanity has already been pondering on their own for millennia. The humans become enmeshed in virulent political debates while a few million refugees settle into new schools and neighborhoods, still reeling from an unimaginable trauma and without any way to get home.   But perhaps there might be a way to restore the torn pages. At the heart of the mystery lies the gunshot, which affected the earth in a comparatively minor way through earthquakes, solar flares, and the disappearance of ex-planet Pluto. What could be powerful enough to obliterate so many dimensions? What might allow the book to be mended? The Occularis demons who may be able to see the answers aren't talking.