With a final, desperate burst of speed, the Odyssey shot out of the end of the collapsing, chaotic tunnel. The violent, swirling madness of the corridor vanished, and they were suddenly floating in a place of profound and absolute calm.
The ship's emergency lights shut off, and the normal, soft, white lighting of the bridge returned. The screaming alarms fell silent. The crew, who had been holding on for dear life, slowly picked themselves up, their faces a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and pure, wide-eyed awe.
They had made it. They had arrived at the impossible coordinates. They had reached the Axis of Time.
It was not a place in the way a planet or a star is a place. There was no ground, no sky. They were floating in a gentle, dark void, but instead of stars, the void was filled with shimmering, colorful threads of light. There were millions of them, stretching from infinity to infinity, crossing and weaving around each other in a vast, cosmic tapestry.
