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Within it he was helpless. He could say nothing, do nothing, except obey.

Galen realized that through his spell of destruction, he was connecting to these servants of the Shadows, thinking their thoughts, feeling their feelings. The same thing had happened when he'd attacked Anna in her ship, behind the City Center on Thenothk.

He searched for the identity of this being, for some memory, some personality. But he could find nothing, not even a name-only the desire to escape from the pain, and the necessity to obey.

He spun tighter and tighter, his tissue, his face turning to jelly, his self melting away. Yet the Shadows had destroyed that much earlier.

The whispers of the Eye faded as the sphere severed the connection, but still he did not scream, obedient to the last. The darkness closed around him, crushed him.

He looked up, gasping, disoriented, at Elizar crouched beside him. "A deterrent," Elizar said. "The Shadows don't want us destroying their equipment."

Galen extended his hands, bracing them for balance against the cave floor. It was not rock they pressed against, though, but the hard, smooth surface of a platform. He was on Elizar's platform, he realized, and they were speeding across the cavern. He rolled off, dropped the few feet to the uneven ground.

With a few awkward movements he pushed himself to his knees. His body was burning, incandescent. Struggling to regain his bearings, he looked for Elizar, wanting to cast the spell again.

He forced his eyes closed, withdrawing farther down that dark tunnel of his control, containing the energy, securing it. He shivered.

What a fool he'd been. He'd centered all his plans on the spell of destruction. The only reason he was still alive was that Elizar seemed in no mood to kill him, at least
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