The nightmare spilled into reality: an ocean of darkness stretched from sky to earth, and the carriage lurched through it, tossed toward the unknown by waves of panic.
His mind went blank. His companions' cries, the horses' pained whinnies as their reins were yanked tight, the shuddering snap of leather straps—all were swept away by the aftershocks of the thunder rolling in behind them.
In the chaos, their only light was lost. Without sight, their sense of physical existence dwindled to almost nothing.
For a moment, the world seemed especially unreal, so empty that only things lighter than air remained—too insubstantial even to bear a falling leaf. Only pure spirit and consciousness drifted aimlessly, stripped of any sense of distance or time.
At the worst possible moment, that feeling of enlightenment struck again, seemingly within arm's reach.
The sense of being both near and far made him forget even the danger he was in. His instincts drew his attention to it.
Like a drowning man trapped in a Cold Current, numb and suffocating, who spotted a sliver of light overhead and swam toward it with all his strength, pounding at the thin layer of ice between himself and the air.
Yet the translucent barrier, which instinct said was as thin as a cicada's wing, proved impossibly tough—more despair-inducing than a fortress's thick walls. No matter how desperately his consciousness struggled, it could not move the barrier in the slightest.
And at that very moment, across the nearest and yet most distant of distances, he "saw" it again.
It was right across from him, so close it nearly touched the tip of his nose and the soft whiskers beside his lips. Even so, it remained blurry and indistinct, impossible to hold in his mind as a lasting, concrete impression.
It was