He opened his eyes, and he saw. All of it, even as it faded into insignificance and all that mattered was the light, and the way it filled everything he could see and feel. There was nothing he could do, and he could do anything.
He started moving forward, haltingly at first, then with more confidence. The faster he moved, the less effort it seemed to take, even as his muscles started to feel the strain of the exertion.
As his stride turned to a run, his focus became more distinct. He could see farther and with greater clarity. His focus shifted from the peripheries, yet he was aware of it all.
And as he ran, even as his eyes fixed ever more firmly ahead, what he saw started to matter less, become less of a reference point and more just… information.
Because the air itself was shifting.
The landscape of sound, the stabs of voices and thoughts, slowed to a bubble, and then to a barely rippling sea. And above it all, and through it all, there was the pulse. A sound that, once you heard it, once you recognised it, you couldn’t imagine not hearing it – it would be laughable to think of it. Because you realised that now, your heart, your own heart, was keeping time with it.
It felt to him like both a revelation and a reunion. It was a calling home, to a place he’d never been.
He had absolutely no idea how to get there, and absolutely no doubt that he would.