Sylas didn't move, he didn't celebrate, he didn't gloat. He wasn't one to do anything of the sort anyway. But right now, he didn't feel the need to.
Especially since he could feel something… something odd.
It was like a Will, but it was processing. Processing faster than should be possible, and adapting to a larger scope, a wider lens.
Sylas could feel it. Like he was under a microscope, pressed down between two glass pieces and squeezed thin until all his insides were perfectly laid out.
And then a light shone right through him. Forceful, purposeful, elucidating what might be left, or maybe just what remained.
It was a feeling more uncomfortable than any he had ever experienced, and one that he couldn't seem to rip himself free from. Even when he expanded the scope of his Progenitor status, even when he truly allowed himself to feel the width and breadth of the Milky Way for the first time truly… down to its countless stars and the rivers of its scattered inhabitable planets.
