(Sandy's Perspective)
It's a nice place, oblivion. For the most part, I even enjoy the hypnogogic state between unconsciousness and wakefulness, even for all its weirdness. Which is where I'm presently lingering because waking up means I have to figure out how to cope with what's recently been addressed to me.
The will-o'-the-wisps return, winking in and out of existence with their little sighing voices, their dancing-flame hands motioning me to follow. Except now, they're inexplicably changed. What had been smokey blue has flavored itself with hints of gold and pearlescent white.
I take a moment to study the change wrought in them. As I reach out towards the nearest, it waves for me to follow, then vanishes abruptly, just like the last time they appeared. Cheeky little brats. Pausing, I pivot in place slowly, staring at each in turn. There's something vaguely familiar about the shard-like shapes.
Then it hits me.
