He let the tear take him
The vision collapsed. The foreign world vanished. The accelerated millennia, the cycles, the points and the breaths and the patient mana web all *
folded away like a curtain pulled aside, and Bruce was back, back at axiom Labyrinth's Space.
Bruce blinked.
The space was exactly as he had left it. The same neutral grey distance. The same absence of geography. The same patient stillness that had greeted him at the start of the trial and had clearly been waiting, unhurried, for him to find his way home.
He was breathing. He registered that as interesting. He had not, as far as he could remember, been breathing during the vision.
His body felt, different. Not changed, exactly. Settled. As if every cell in him had been carrying a question for longer than he had realized, and the vision had answered it, and the answer had quietly redistributed itself through his tissues while he wasn't paying attention.
