He had been standing in the ruins of a street that existed almost a hundred kilometer away, looking at buildings that were half memory and half lie.
The first thing that crossed his mind was the possibility of an Illusion, but he knew that was wrong. It was not an Illusion, it was some other trick that he could not quite identify.
Was there something around him that could reach and see his memories. That was the worst kind of opponent he could think of...
'No, no, no Fuck!'
Then he suddenly felt as though his visibility was getting less and less. The first thing that told him something was wrong was the light.
He looked up and his pupils constricted.
There was no gradual shift, no long-drifting front of weather rolling in from the distance. One moment the sky was the color of dirty glass; the next, a sheet of dark cloud slid over it like an eyelid closing.
The temperature dropped a fraction. The air thickened. Somewhere above the broken line of rooftops, thunder rolled once.
