Sylas knew there was more, he could feel it every time he held the brush... Layers of inheritance hidden so deeply that even his current Will couldn't casually peel them apart.
The old man had given him something that didn't seem to care very much about the rules everyone else followed.
Sylas stood in silence for a long while.
Rhykan wanted him to bring the Milky Way forward within a week.
"Okay." Sylas said calmly. Then his gaze shifted and something changed within it.
There was no smile, no excitement. No sudden burst of realization that would have betrayed what conclusion he had reached. There was only the faintest flash in those emerald eyes.
Then Sylas raised a hand and Beacon erupted. Blinding golden light seemed to connect the heaven and hell of the universe, a siren for as far as the eyes could see peeling across time and space.
His Will simply seeped into the void, spreading past the dead worlds around him, slipping through the darkness between stars, crossing star systems without slowing and yet continuing onward.
Further.
And then further still.
The scale expanded until distances that once would have taken ships light years to cross became meaningless beneath the pressure of Sylas' Will.
It stretched until even the edges of Sylas' senses should have long failed, reaching scales that Sylas' Beacon should have long broken under.
Then it stretched further... until, finally, Beacon touched the furthest reaches of the galaxy.
Sylas' hand lowered and looked into the endless dark.
Then breathed out a single word.
"Come."
**
The Vosskarr Clan ruled the galaxy.
Their name had been written into its history so deeply that many of the civilizations beneath them no longer remembered an era before the Vosskarr. Dynasties rose, Races collapsed, but the Vosskarr remained.
There was a reason for that.
Their language was ancient enough that translating it into a universal common stripped away most of its meaning.
Vos meant blood, that much was simple. Skarr, though, was a lot subtler.
Most translation matrices rendered it as scar, or to scar, but neither captured the true meaning. A scar, ugly as they might be, could fade, be faint--it ultimately reflected a bandaged and forgotten wound.
But Skarr meant to leave behind a mark of Will, something that could be remembered after flesh rotted away, after names disappeared from records, after even the people who had witnessed the act themselves turned to dust.


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