Page 152 of Red Ruin
I float somewhere dark.
It’s empty at first.
Then visions flicker—bursts of light, half-seen faces and skies, and scattered voices.
I’d be lost if not for the grip of Remy’s soul.
His voice sounds closer than a whisper kissed into my ear.
Then I know without knowing how.
I’m inside Remy’s head.
Sentinels and Guides with deep bonds can end up sharing dreams, or even memories, but only through deep trust.
As I hang in empty space, trying to suck in so that I don’t accidentally shatter Remy’s mind, the flashes settle into a hall of shattered mirrors.
I catch glimpses of memories from hundreds of lives. I can’t feel my body, but I feel the ache even without my heart.
Remy opened his mind to let me search his memories.
I could break him with a thought.
I can’t waste this chance.
I can’t betray his trust.
The memories are too jagged to see at a glance. Trying to stare at any image feels like peeking through a kaleidoscope of broken glass. There are so many layers from so many lives.
I ask instead of banging around, giving him the chance to lead the reveal.
The kaleidoscope shifts, flashing countless battles with zombies.
Some memories shine brightly, and some are grayed out. Almost forgotten.
I keep my thoughts light, trying not to push too hard.
Some memories are dangerously sharp.
Some are brittle or fogged, and some are vivid but hidden behind spiderwebs of cracks.
Gently, I keep filtering until only one window is left.
The image is dark and blurred, but something sparkles behind the film.
Mywantto see sucks me inside.
It feels like putting on greased goggles.
I stand in a cavern, but the view isn’t mine.
I’m seeing out of Remy’s eyes.
At his height, the rocky floor feels farther away than my normal view. The scene plays like a movie. I can watch, but I can’t control the playback.
Remy’s gaze drops to focus on an array.
It’s the only bright point. The edges of the memory crackle and fade to fog, and his vision is so much narrower than mine.
