White. Everything was so white!
The blood drink and its sister spell hit Horacio hard. He felt as if he was sucked into a whirlpool. Within a few moments, he saw himself being pinholed through space and time. It was like an upward free-fall through the eye of a cyclone. There was chaos around him. He saw creation folding and unfolding, worlds blink into and pop out of existence.
After what seemed to be an endless period, the mage woke up. He felt lighter, as if a burden had been taken off him.
But then…
White.
That was all Horacio saw as he opened his eyes.
He was in a squeaky clean room with smooth, chalky-white walls and an ivory-white floor. The mage sat behind a wooden desk with white panels. 'Is this heaven?' he wondered.
Myriad instruments, curious trinkets, and outlandish furniture covered the room. It was like one of his bizarre dreams where he could not make out anything.
