Forming custom demiplanes is a delicate art. Hannah is currently regretting not having paid closer attention to the finer points of said art, as she drifts in interstellar vacuum in an unknown plane. 

She pulls her wand of Air Bubble from her personal hammerspace, taps herself with it, takes a deep breath, exhales. 

Not a Class A, she thinks. There are stars and I'm not dead yet. Probably at least Class C, in which case I might not be dead, period. 

She pulls out a silver circlet from nowhere, and puts it on. Intergalactic Teleport, don't fail me now.