Sylas sat in a Thryskai vessel, his mind still churning. The blood that had been on his hands had long been swallowed by the Scorned Wraps, and his gaze was focused on the sea of stars ahead.
He had never thought that he would have a time like this, riding through space as though driving his car down a highway, but amongst all the things he had done in the last few months, this felt like it was among the most mundane.
He had saved an entire world just a few weeks ago; this felt like chump change compared to that.
It was a beautiful scene nonetheless. It was just a shame that he couldn't enjoy it because he was still trying to figure something out.
There were two possibilities for what had happened to him just now, one of which was alright and he could manage well enough, and the other of which was much more troublesome.
