Above dimension, above time, and above space. The place he was in was nearly above the pinnacle of the Universe.
The light flared, and for an instant, he saw it clearly. Not with eyes, but with the part of himself that still hung to logic. It was not a flame, not a star, not anything he could name. It was like a convergence, completely and utterly pure and unyielding, the origin and destination, the beginning and the end pressed into one. His soul trembled just by thinking it.
The voice returned, closer now, as if it were inside him, and if he were to describe this voice, he could do it as a gentle breeze in the summer, sitting near the beach, and that of a girl, like a little sister: "Nova."
It wasn't commanding. It wasn't pleading. It felt inevitable.
He moved toward it, though there was no movement. The void vent, folded, carrying him. His hands trembled; he couldn't help it, since his soul was making them tremble, as his mind cracked like the Titanic hitting the iceberg.
