Sylas looked up.
Something in the laws of the galaxy had shifted.
Beacon was still functioning. He could feel every thread of Will spreading outward, slipping through the void and reaching across distances the ability should never have been able to cross. Nothing had been severed, nothing had been suppressed, and the amount of power he was spending remained almost exactly the same. Yet the result had changed.
Sylas watched another wave of Serpentes pour toward him and his eyes narrowed, not because any of them were particularly weak, nor because Beacon had suddenly begun calling the wrong species. There had always been variety. That was unavoidable when he was dragging creatures toward himself from across an entire galaxy.
The problem was how that variety was being arranged.
