to control, to impose their designs on the universe. They created ships and places of power that unquestioningly followed their orders. The relationship between the Eye and Anna was little different from that between a techno-mage and his tech: One imposed control on the other. It was a chain of master and slave, puppetmaster and puppet. He had been the master. He had controlled his tech, himself, every step of the way. And it had brought him here, to slavery.
Control of the Eye was not possible. And control of himself would only make him a more efficient cog in the Shadows' war machine.
But if he could not control it, then he would be controlled by it. There were no other options.
The pillar's light faded, and with the strange knowledge of dreams, he knew Wierden was passing. He grabbed on to the cold stone with both hands. "Please tell me what to do. Tell me what to do."
She had no answers. In a thousand years, she had not found escape. And now he would serve the next thousand, spreading chaos and death. John would be killed, the alliance would fail, the Shadows would ascend, and Elizar and Razeel would rebuild the mages in blood.
The light died.
He stood there, at a loss.
From the rock, a faint tingling prickled through his fingertips, like the smallest electric current. With a wave of goose bumps it shivered up his hands and arms to his head. There it conveyed longing, sadness, relief. Then it was gone.
The pillar faded, disappeared.
It was nearly the same thing he'd felt when Elric had died. Galen shivered, crossing his arms over his chest. He had not wanted to think of it then. Yet here it was again. What was it? Some residual bit of energy. An echo of an echo of an echo- of something.
In both cases he'd been within an electron incantation,