The transition was violent. It wasn't a gentle waking from a dream; it was like being thrown out of a moving vehicle onto rough pavement.
One moment, they were falling through the void of the House of Unused Entrances, surrounded by the debris of rejected storylines. The next, gravity slammed into them with the crushing weight of reality.
Gazelle gasped, her lungs burning as she inhaled the scent of damp earth and rotting pine needles. She was lying on her back in the mud, the cold seeping through her clothes. Above her, the sky wasn't the infinite black of the void, but the bruised purple of a twilight in the "real" world.
"Is everyone... is everyone okay?" Alexander's voice quavered from somewhere to her left.
Gazelle pushed herself up. Her head spun. "Check your limbs," she croaked. "Make sure you didn't leave anything in the subconscious."
