The moment the spike left Marsh’s body, something else answered. The Anchor, still sitting in its geometrically inoffensive little pyramid, flared. Not with light, but with presence.
I felt it in my teeth, in my bones, in parts that Lopen would joke about at the most inappropriate moments. I felt it thrum through every Connection to every source of Investiture I possessed...which was many more than most so it meant something.
“Oh,” I said softly. “That’s not ideal.”
Kelsier, to his credit, did not ask what I meant. He felt it to.
The pyramid rose. Not quickly or dramatically - it simply decided that gravity was no longer a particularly compelling argument. It hovered there, spinning ever so slightly, its soft purplish-blue glow deepening into something richer and more saturated.
Marsh slumped behind us, groaning, momentarily forgotten as both of us watched the Anchor.
“Tell me,” Kelsier said, very calmly, “that this is part of your plan.”
“I would love to,” I replied. “Truly. It would be a refreshing change of pace.”
The air rippled and, around us, the city flickered...just for a moment, but that was enough.
Buildings seemed to blur at the edges, as though unsure which version of themselves they preferred. Shadows stretched in the wrong direction and somewhere, faintly, I could hear it - the distant echo of thoughts that were not being thought here.
“The overlap,” I said. “It’s accelerating.”
Kelsier’s head snapped toward me. “You said the Anchor just tied the realms together.”
“Yes,” I said. “Gently. Politely. With all the decorum of a well-behaved existential crisis.”
The pyramid pulsed and, this time, something answered from the other side.
Figures, faint and translucent, began to appear along the edges of the rooftop. Not quite people, not quite spren. They were impressions...reflections. Cognitive Shadows of a world that had never been meant to fully touch this one.
One of them turned its head toward us. Then another.
Kelsier swore under his breath.
“Well,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back as the situation continued to deteriorate in a manner I found both fascinating and deeply inconvenient, “on the bright side, we no longer need to worry about hiding the Anchor.”
Kelsier glanced at me. “Why not?”
I smiled. “Because in approximately thirty seconds,” I said, “it’s going to make itself everyone’s problem.”
I felt it in my teeth, in my bones, in parts that Lopen would joke about at the most inappropriate moments. I felt it thrum through every Connection to every source of Investiture I possessed...which was many more than most so it meant something.
“Oh,” I said softly. “That’s not ideal.”
Kelsier, to his credit, did not ask what I meant. He felt it to.
The pyramid rose. Not quickly or dramatically - it simply decided that gravity was no longer a particularly compelling argument. It hovered there, spinning ever so slightly, its soft purplish-blue glow deepening into something richer and more saturated.
Marsh slumped behind us, groaning, momentarily forgotten as both of us watched the Anchor.
“Tell me,” Kelsier said, very calmly, “that this is part of your plan.”
“I would love to,” I replied. “Truly. It would be a refreshing change of pace.”
The air rippled and, around us, the city flickered...just for a moment, but that was enough.
Buildings seemed to blur at the edges, as though unsure which version of themselves they preferred. Shadows stretched in the wrong direction and somewhere, faintly, I could hear it - the distant echo of thoughts that were not being thought here.
“The overlap,” I said. “It’s accelerating.”
Kelsier’s head snapped toward me. “You said the Anchor just tied the realms together.”
“Yes,” I said. “Gently. Politely. With all the decorum of a well-behaved existential crisis.”
The pyramid pulsed and, this time, something answered from the other side.
Figures, faint and translucent, began to appear along the edges of the rooftop. Not quite people, not quite spren. They were impressions...reflections. Cognitive Shadows of a world that had never been meant to fully touch this one.
One of them turned its head toward us. Then another.
Kelsier swore under his breath.
“Well,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back as the situation continued to deteriorate in a manner I found both fascinating and deeply inconvenient, “on the bright side, we no longer need to worry about hiding the Anchor.”
Kelsier glanced at me. “Why not?”
I smiled. “Because in approximately thirty seconds,” I said, “it’s going to make itself everyone’s problem.”
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