The Doktor's Spyglass

Chapter 22.1

Thijis found himself adrift in the night sky.

Except the stars were wrong: all out of scale and golden instead of white. If he had had a body in this place, if he could breathe, he felt sure he would be drowning.

The black backdrop seemed close and hard at first, an inky curtain of night pierced by an infinity of stars, but the farther into the distance he gazed the more points of light revealed themselves. It was as if his sight extended only so far without conscious focus.

There was no real sense of movement. Every angle looked the same. He couldn't even tell if he was moving, if the strange skyscape was moving around him, or if everything was perfectly still, and his mind was the thing that was mobile.

Seeing no other option, Thijis focused again on a random point far away, trying to see past the blank depths. Just as further ranks of glowing star-specks appeared within the narrow focus of his vision, he felt a sharp tug, as if someone had hooked him around the waist with a shepherd's crook.

Stop that.

A voice that was not a voice. Nonetheless, it was somehow familiar. He didn't know how they could be the case, since he hadn't actually heard anything, but still—

You're a passenger. You're under my control. You have no business being in this place, even as an onlooker, but time has grown too short.

Kantaris? Thijis said—or emoted, or emanated. He didn't know what.

Yes. It should be just another moment. I am not accustomed to traveling the aether with an unskilled companion.

The aether?

You are inside of the Phiros, Mr. Thijis. In the very belly of creation itself. The ancients would say that you inhabit the body of a god.

How could one be inside the Phiros? Phirotics was a power source, a type of energy not unlike simple electricity. It wasn't a place to be inhabited.

But it is, said Kantaris. Thijis didn't know whether or not to be surprised that the man could apparently read his thoughts.

I can't read your mind, Kantaris assured him. Because you have no training, no experience, your every thought echoes into the void like a pealing bell. Even the rankest novice could read you like a book, in this place.

Now, Kantaris continued. Hold on.

Hold on? Hold the fuck on? What the fuck did—

But then the universe shifted, and the stars became golden streaks, and for the first time Thijis actually felt a sensation of motion. He watched, a helpless, terrified ball of consciousness, as the very fabric of everything sucked him into a whirlpool of golden light.

* * *

"Ah," said the old man. "Much better." Thijis blinked.

They sat in a round study, its intricate domed ceiling held up by columns framing stained glass windows that depicted scenes of battle and myth that were unfamiliar to Thijis. Kantaris faced him, seated in a leather chair identical to Irik's own. He looked as relaxed as if he were sipping wine in his kitchen. The light shining through the windows was even and particolored, so that the atmosphere in the room was almost as otherworldly as the starlit void had been.