It was morning. I had to open my eyes, I thought, but today was different. Somebody had quieted the birds. The sunlight against my eyelids pulled back into the murk and my sensibilities collapsed like a house of befuddled cards.

There were four dots on the horizonless gulf, four flickering, spiraling gossamer threads of light. They wove around one another in the pattern of a lotus blossom for several moments. Without warning they accelerated into weightless arcs over my head, surrounding me in brilliant braids like a basket made of sunbeams. And the fibers blurred into one until the darkness was hidden entirely by the glow.

From within this world of white, a golden figure moved toward me. I did not see it appear. The figure wasn’t walking, nor was it flying; it simply moved. Presently it was near enough for me to distinguish its face, impossibly smooth like blown glass, without any angles at all. And two fiery eyes like burning mercury. The figure spoke with a distant voice.

“Welcome to Avalon,” it said.