Ghostwater (Cradle, #5)

by Will Wight

His spiritual grip was slipping, and he was essentially bleeding madra. Even with the added focus from the Dream Well, he was having trouble holding both constructs in the right shape at the same time. Dross kept shifting gradually. “Will I think of myself differently? How will I see the world? Will I even be able to think anymore, or will I be like I was before?” Heavens help me, Lindon thought to himself. Then he shoved the constructs together, hoping they would match. “Will I be myself? What if I hate being a key, but it’s too late?” There was resistance. Lindon had to push the last of his madra into the effort and shove them together until he forced them to click. It was a good thing Dross didn’t have a physical body, or this would have been excruciatingly painful. “On second thought, I’m not sure I…” Dross’ voice froze halfway through the sentence. The light in the gem flickered and rippled. Lindon’s spiritual grip tightened; had he failed? Motion passed through the light, as though something were swimming inside the sapphire. The light started to change, staining the vessel purple. “…want to do this,” Dross continued. “It’s too risky, isn’t it? Who would gamble their very self on a game of chance?”