The air distorted, curving outward, warping the walls until they were convex. The people and furniture stretched and thinned until Kaitlyn hung inside a spherical image of the room where the debate had raged a moment before. She had never imagined this when she insisted their decision would create a new world.

The sphere’s surface turned translucent and burst. Air rushed in a vortex, pelting Kaitlyn with particles. Her eyes closed against the assault. Gradually, the vacuum filled and fell into stillness around her. The room regained its shape, but the characters moved as if caught in liquid amber. Her limbs met resistance as she turned to observe her surroundings.

The roughhewn stone walls appeared smooth as if polished by the disturbance—the sunlight shown sharp and clear, where it had been dim and dirty. The oblong conference table had shortened to near-circular, and five people surrounded it instead of eight.

“Where are Jerome and Themmon and Gaillia?” Kaitlyn asked the gaunt man to her right. He shook his head slowly, then with more speed as the resistance lessened. He seemed confused, as if he did not recognize the names.

Across from her, Lady Menolda had aged a decade or more. She spoke, her voice sympathetic, “It seems you were right. The decision became too large to be contained.”

“The others?”

“It seems they do not fit in this ‘verse.”

“We have to go back for them,” Caitlyn cried.

“We cannot. Free choice wields enormous power, enough to splinter universes.”

Photo by Louis Maniquet