In truth, it was much less about actually moving anything and more about collapsing the spatial dimensions to make the two locations coexist. What a thrilling prospect!
Halfway through the inner aetherworks, the projection for the target snagged on something. Rashmi nearly lost her grip. "No, no, not now." She twisted the projection, coaxing it with gentle tugs. It was caught on one of the phantom dimensions. "We don't have time for this." She tugged harder, harder, hard—her hand slipped. Suddenly everything felt wrong. She was gripped by the sensation of severe vertigo, she tried to pull back, but whatever had a hold on her was too strong.
It was like plunging into a bath of ice water.
She would have screamed if she could have found her voice—if she could have identified the place within her being that a voice was supposed to come from. But she couldn't find her lips, nor her lungs, nor any other part of her body. All she knew were the multitudinous dimensions. They were no longer phantom, no longer variables in an equation. They were real. And there were so many.