Darkness. Almost silence but for an ethereal, electrical fizzing left on the air where shards had shattered light with their sharpness.
It rains glass; showers sparkling fragments of powder across the room like a storm of confetti. Energy pulses and bulges against the four walls, trickling and pouring and swelling out between space and solidity in terrible technicolour.
Amber stays still on the shelf, waiting for the dust to settle, and when it does she lifts her head from the protection of her palms and breathes…slowly. Goosebumps rise along her soft skin; standing to attention in the sudden cold of spontaneous-emotion-induced freedom. Hairs prick up, one by one, as she takes in a new world.
A line of snowglobes, still intact, tower over her. Snowglobes that, not ten minutes ago would have fit neatly in one hand, now shine like giant stars in an overgrown universe.
Amber pushes on the frame of the cabinet, forcing it open with all her strength. It’s a long way down.
Then she hears the footsteps.