Chapter 4: Face to Face

Voronin's mouth hung agape. His lungs forgot how to breathe. His heart rate accelerated, his stomach turned, and he weakly wondered if this was his transition to the afterlife. Somehow he found his footing and stood.

The Traveler, they called it. He had heard the stories from throughout the system, but never did he think he would live to see it. Now it was as though it was seeing him.

He took a step forward as if it would bring him closer to the oblate spheroid in the sky above him. He stumbled. The ground had gotten so hot under him, the rubber on his boots had melted. A banal thought cut through his awe—"Now I look like a fool in front of the Traveler"—and he was ashamed.

The sound of cracking thunder still echoed in the distance. That was when he noticed he was in the eye of the storm. It was wailing all around him, but calm in his general circumference. Surely this was the Traveler's doing. The great savior. He grabbed Morozova, unsure of how long this would last, and brought her to her feet. She was badly injured, bleeding from a wound on her leg.

"Stay with me." He said to Morozova and the Traveler at once. Only one of them listened. The Traveler was on the move, and the storm was returning.