The cold was the first thing that she noticed. It ran through her veins, cold and hard, and covered her skin. It was the same cold that the orphanage blankets could not cover, that the hospital blankets, no matter how long they had been warmed, could not hold back. It was the cold that filled her veins whenever she had to face Waspurgisnaght and when she had to turn back the clock.
Madoka was the only person who had been able to keep that pain away. Just being near her, watching her smile and laugh, had been enough to break through a few layers of frost and free her from the chill. It couldn't stop everything, but it was enough to keep Homura moving forward.
The lights were what she noticed next. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to them - they were so bright, as if they were fueled by the noble gases. However, it was only when her eyes were closed and hands held up to shield her eyes that she realized that it had to be something else. Whatever this place was, gravity did not exist (or at least was very weak), if what she felt was correct and she was floating on nothing. If the laws of gravity were close to, if not completely nonexistent, then why would there be neon lights? It was not as if there was a hole in the wall to plug them into.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, keeping one hand near her face until her eyes had finally adjusted. The space around her was cold, but it was a bit easier to face now. Homura's eyes widened, taking in her surroundings.
This place seemed more fit for darkness, but spaces of blackness were mixed in with white spots. Both the dark and light spots wreaked of emptiness, and she dared not look at them too long, let alone touch them. One seemed to reach into oblivion, and the other seemed as if she had reached the edge of everything.
It took a bit longer for her to notice her body. She was still dressed in her magical girl uniform, and her shield was still at her side, completely untouched. It seemed to be looking at her, as if waiting for her to touch it.
Homura shook her head. The shield didn't have eyes, let alone anything else to let it know where it was. It was just cold metal mixed with magic - something that seemed more fitting in a fantasy game than in her hands.
Still, it was hers.
Homura's eyes returned to the other images. They were closer than the black and white patches - like a forgotten quilt, the kind that no one wore. She looked away from the patches of dark and light and to the other images, the ones that flashed with every color of the rainbow.
Her back stiffened at the images. She reached forward through nothingness towards the images, yet never reached them.
Madoka was everywhere. Madoka at school, Madoka playing soccer in physical education class, and Madoka shopping in the mall. Madoka alongside her friends after school, all of them wearing matching school uniforms and eyes aimed at the same camera, struggling to all get into the frame.
The more that she reached, the further away the images became. Just as she thought she had one, they were a few inches away. It was like holding food towards an animal and watching them try and get it, all while moving it further and further away.
Her legs moved through Jello and air, across a plain both lacking gravity and yet completely solid. Every time she closed her eyes, the images burned behind her eyelids, and she could almost hear Madoka speaking.
If this was the work of a witch, then Homura had yet to see her.
Another image appeared, this one even brighter than the others. For a moment, Homura saw Madoka, and then she saw herself.
She reached forward and wrapped her hand around it, felt it sting. It cracked under her skin, and she was sure that she felt blood. Whatever this was, perhaps she should have ignored it; perhaps she should have just let it slowly inch away from her, just out of reach.
"Madoka!" the word echoed though the place, and no reply ever came. Homura continued shouting the name until her throat was raw and her eyes had let out every last tear. When she opened them once more, she wiped away at her wet cheeks. The images had moved away from her, as if they had wanted to escape her cries. She was still floating, suspended by invisible puppet strings in the oblivion.
She didn't reach for the images, and she did not look towards the colorless patches. Instead, her hand went to her shield, which was familiar and cool beneath her touch. She reset time easily, watching the images fade away. Wherever she was, time did probably did not exist in this space, at least not like it did on earth. If she could control time, then she did not belong there, breaking its rules.
Her evacuation only filled her with relief.
When she next opened her eyes, she was in her small student apartment and her school uniform was neatly made out. Looking at the calendar, she saw that it was her first day of school.
In an instant, she bolted out of bed, hitting the carpeted floor with a thump.
School meant Madoka, and Madoka needed her. This time, she needed to get things done right.