Jerry was aware of himself before he opened his eyes. There was a dull aching sensation at the back of his head. He moved his fingers, his toes. Shook his head from side to side.

He was dimly aware that he had just done something that could never be reversed.

Sand.

He was laying on sand, he realized, as he gingerly opened his eyes. He could hear the surf coming in, the water gently washing over the shore. Could feel the warm breeze coming in off the water. The sharp scent of salt permeated everything.

Where was he?

He sat up abruptly, suddenly acutely aware that Mystic City was hundreds of miles away from the ocean. He looked around and had to shield his eyes against the glare of the setting sun as it reflected off the ocean. The ocean, which was a shade of blue he had never seen before.

And the sand. The sand underneath his fingers had an odd texture. Nothing that Jerry could directly put his finger on, but it was strange.

He squinted inland. Instantly he sucked in a breath of awe.