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... own of Pulsing Jewels, the Womb of Cosmic Want
The moment she spoke—no, not even spoke, merely uttered—the psionic resonance in her voice struck me like a low, seismic wave brushing the inside of my skull. Not quite a shout. Not even a raised voice. Just... presence. The way an ancient star might groan as it dies, or a tidal wave might whisper before it crashes.
Reflexively, I snapped every mental ward I had into place. My psychic lattice flickered like a feverish candle flame. T ...
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