Clarice stood steadfast, closed-eyed, by the edge of the stone road.
To her right, the community that had raised and trained her for these many long years parted. She reminisced the times spent within buried halls and lost archives, learning the secrets of the dark arts. They would aid her on this day when the red tides rescind and the artery reopens. She would leave and let past turn to resolve against the struggle that must transpire.
To her left, the stony road cut straight, shooting through landscapes and seasons, space and time. She traversed this road once before, but out of fear and escape from the organization that murdered her family. Now, she would traverse this same road that led inexorably back to the waking world and finish the deed set long ago beneath the burning rubble of her childhood village.
Clarice opened her eyes and woke up in a hospital. Five years had passed since she fell into the coma. The time for running had come to an end.