Return to the Light

The shimmer intensified, not with the violent, tearing quality of her arrival, but with a gentle, insistent hum. Anya squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact, for the sickening lurch that had become all too familiar. Instead, a profound stillness settled, a silence so complete it felt like a physical presence. When she dared to open her eyes, the oppressive, metallic sky of the alternate reality was gone. Above her, a familiar, impossibly blue expanse stretched, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Sunlight, warm and unfiltered, bathed her face.

She was back.

The sterile white walls of the interrogation room had been replaced by the rough, damp stone of an alleyway. The stench of ozone and decay was gone, replaced by the comforting aroma of exhaust fumes and something vaguely floral. Anya scrambled to her feet, her worn detective’s trench coat feeling blessedly normal. She patted herself down, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her service weapon was still holstered at her hip, its familiar weight a solid anchor. Her comms unit, miraculously, was on her wrist, its screen displaying the time: 03:17. She’d been gone for… how long? Days? Weeks? The temporal distortion had been too chaotic to gauge.