Sylas' grip tightened around the calligraphy brush.
Runes had been speaking to him for a long time already.
That realization should have come sooner, but maybe that was precisely why it hadn't.
His talent had been too great. From the earliest stages of his Rune Path, Sylas had felt things from them that others didn't. Emotion, intent, pressure, even what sometimes felt like preference. Certain Runes seemed eager, others stubborn, some violent, some patient. He had accepted those impressions so naturally that he had never stopped to ask what they actually were.
Runes weren't alive. They couldn't be.
They were the building blocks of the universe, structures that existed beneath matter, energy, space, time, life, and death. Given enough complexity, they could spontaneously form something alive, but the Runes themselves were no more alive than atoms had been back on Earth before the Summoning.
