"Gurgle."
"Gurgle."
It bounced slightly, emitting sounds with its vibrations, pulsing like a living heart, though the sounds were more like a restless stomach; Lyle knew it wasn't hungry.
Lyle's talent had changed, morphing in the opposite direction of his hopes, as fate's vines left the trellis he had constructed and reached towards the sky.
His talent sphere had become more like an individual.
Though forceful commands could still control its actions, Lyle could sense the concealed thought in the corner; it had developed a self.
That strange consciousness made Lyle feel slightly estranged from it, despite it being his own talent. He locked the sphere in a leather pouch, tightened the drawstrings, and tossed it onto the table. After instructing Medusa and the vines to keep an eye out for any abnormalities, Lyle lay down on his bed.
