It was the second “blip” that did it. The first time was terrifying. Poe was not sure what would happen, whether she would die. (Unthinkable.) That countdown was a secret form of torture, in her friend’s voice.
But after a moment of well, discomfort, it was fine. Everything was still in shape. She felt slightly odd, like she was two places at once, stretched but still whole.
The second time something ripped.
It was the best way to describe the sensation. Something tore, and suddenly there was some kind of intangible hole inside her. These words, these metaphors were all so inadequate but how else could it be described?
She was no longer being stretched, anyway. The connection had snapped, the band pulled too far. It had broken and whipped back.
It was there, and then it was gone. She felt nothing after the initial shock. No fear, no concern, not even bemusement. She could feel nothing. Just emptiness. An awareness of her purpose, her mission. Memories of her plans, knowledge she had. But no excitement or dread about any of it.
The runeblade was gone, and it took her with it. There was only a shell there, a rational, thinking shell but one she wasn’t sure could survive long term. She reached for it, tried to fill that hole but it was like grasping at emptiness. More inexact metaphors.
She wasn’t sure what was going to happen if she survived, but at least she wasn’t afraid.
On another world, while no one watched, two fel green runes shattered with a sound akin to ice cracking, and disappeared. Three others dulled slowly to nothing, now empty shapes carved into saronite.
Only the rune of containment remained, pulsating a slowly fading green.