“We diverged a few measly hours ago,” Zorian said dismissively. “Just how different could our perspectives be?”
The simulacrum frowned, a little annoyed at the response. He didn’t answer with words. Instead he forced a connection to Zorian’s mind and blasted him with a few choice memories. The nerve-wracking wait before
the platform’s descent. The terrifying sight of the grey hunter jumping out of the cave and seemingly towards him. The feeling of frustration and powerlessness as he watched the battle without being able to meaningfully contribute anything. Zorian gasped and took a step back, caught off-guard by this sudden pseudo-attack, shock written into his features.
“Very different,” the simulacrum said. And then deliberately collapsed his own ectoplasmic body and dissolved into smo
