The Eternal Ball - 2

The pain was gentle at first, a whisper of fire that danced across her skin like the comet itself. Then the air cracked like glass under a hammer, a sound that echoed in her bones. A hand reached out from the darkness, gloved in black, smelling of ozone and something older, something that smelled like forgetting, like the moment before you realize you’ve lost everything. The world folded in on itself, the way paper folds when you press too hard with a finger that has been dipped in ink, and Elian tumbled through the tear, feeling her ribs compress as though an invisible fist had grabbed her and was now squeezing with merciless patience. All she managed to think before falling was: This isn’t real. This can’t be real. I’m going to wake up any second and laugh at myself for believing in that stupid comet. And then she was gone, swallowed by the silver void.
She opened her eyes in the Silver Wastes.

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