Not audibly. The hum was inside his teeth, his sternum, the hollow of his skull.
"Then why am I here?" Elias whispered.
I cannot, said the visitor. Only the Anchor's keeper can. And now — it pointed one long finger at Elias's chest — that is you. Elias woke on his cabin floor, the iron poker digging into his ribs, the fire long dead. Dawn was still bleeding through the window. Only seconds had passed. But the shard was real — warm in his palm, its tiny galaxy spinning. mysteries visitor part 2.
Elias opened his mouth to argue. He hadn't followed. He had simply touched a piece of glass. But the being raised a hand — three fingers, too long — and the protest died in his throat.
The shard of glass was still in his hand. He hadn't realized he was still holding it. But it had changed: no longer cold, but warm, and inside it swirled a tiny galaxy, spinning slow. Not audibly
The being tilted its head. One of its eyes closed — a slow, deliberate blink.
He looked out the window.
You were not supposed to follow.