Holly Dent was becoming undone, spun apart into quantum particulate. She was in complete panic, reaching blindly for slivers of identity as they fled from her reach in silvery flutters. On the edges of her fraying perception, she perceived the world becoming dark and muted, scabbing over with nasty lesions of despair and stagnancy. There was no light, no contrast, no progress or joy…
Out of the corner of her third eye, she saw Peter Lee rocketing through the aether, suited up in a transparent robo-suit. Hope surged through her.
Go get ’em. Her lips curved up in a faint smile. Give ’em hell, Peter.
For a pivotal moment, she was faced with the possibility of following in his wake, of plunging into the world-killing void, but she couldn’t do it. Her heartbreak and rage were an integral part of her, and she couldn’t bear to go on without them. At the same time, she could no longer bear the weight of her strife. It had made her strong, but it was threatening to kill her. Not just kill her, but completely obliterate her.
So she made herself forget.