Syryn was wrapped up in a shroud of chill. He couldn't feel his arms and legs. Everything around him was white and cold. The mage looked around and saw nothing but white light. And It felt like he wasn't seeing with his eyes.
"Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn"
His name echoed through him; multiple echoes of the same voice that changed in volume and intonation.
"Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn Syryn"
"Ugh stop!"
"Syryn"
"Thank fuck. What?"
"Hi!"
"Kill yourself."
The voice was annoying. It sounded like a little boy one moment, and then a little girl the other moment. Somehow the voice remained unchanged and yet different.
"Aww, Syryn, I'm here to help you!"
"Help with what?"
"Your long hard-"
"..."
"Future!!"
"That was so disturbing. Are you a child or pretending to be one?" He still couldn't see anything beyond white. Syryn felt like a soul drowning in an ocean of white.