I found myself moving closer to the vessel, my own movements outside of my control, and my fingers dug into the cold stone edge, anchoring myself as my body trembled uncontrollably. I tried to recall what my mother had told me, tried to think of anything except the overwhelming urge to press my hand into the vessel. I wanted to feel it across my skin, inside my veins. I clamped my eyes closed and tried to block it out. But another voice cut through the air, soft but unmistakable. I opened my eyes and turned my head sharply, my movements feeling unnatural. The Sight.
