Chapter 120: Ch118. Scrybay
The air inside the Scrybay shifted.
Heavy, charged like the moment before a storm. Miles felt something cold grip his chest, his pulse quickening as an invisible force tugged at him. Not at his body, but at something deeper. His thoughts? His memories? His very presence?
Whatever it was, it was being pulled toward the Scryer.
The figure behind the counter did not move. The static on its screen-face flickered erratically, flashing images too fast to decipher – broken glimpses of unknown landscapes, shadowy figures, a twisted clock melting into the ground.
The humming in the air grew stronger, the objects in Miles’ pack vibrating as if caught in an unseen current.
Then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped.
The pressure vanished, leaving Miles breathless. He staggered a step back, his muscles tense, his mind reeling.
"What the hell was that?" He demanded, clutching his chest as if to make sure he was still whole.
The Scryer’s screen flickered again, settling on an image of a shattered mirror.
"A test." It rasped. "You passed."
Miles’ breath came slow and uneven, his body still adjusting to the sensation of being unraveled and stitched back together. He clenched his fists, grounding himself. The Scryer’s screen-face continued to flicker, the static giving way to a slow, pulsing glow, like the embers of a dying fire.