Pitch Black
Ah. That makes sense. When next you look around you, you perceive that you are standing on a thin but rigidly solid path of glass that twists and winds its way through an endless silver sky. It wasn't like it just materialized; more like it was there all along, and your vision just shifted to receive it.
The path goes on ahead and behind you, sometimes twisting, occasionally doubling back on itself, and in one or two places twisting around like a ribbon. Gravity FEELS solid enough, and though you can see for miles around you, there appears to be no matter in the endless silver sky - just air, the astral path, and here and there in the distance, smears of different colors, like dried-on smudges on an artist's palette.
The path goes on ahead and behind you, sometimes twisting, occasionally doubling back on itself, and in one or two places twisting around like a ribbon. Gravity FEELS solid enough, and though you can see for miles around you, there appears to be no matter in the endless silver sky - just air, the astral path, and here and there in the distance, smears of different colors, like dried-on smudges on an artist's palette.