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Wilt floated in darkness, until the face appeared. A familiar face. Higgs’s face. Etched on a stone figurine.
The face tilted backward and the figure fell, knocking into another behind it, and another, stones falling and rising in a circle of never-ending movement. The shadows seemed to shy away from the sight, and Wilt became aware of another world.
He lay on a cold stone floor, rough paving pressed against his cheek. He was in a cell.
The world was black and white, as though all colour had been drained from it. A body on the far side of the cell moved toward him in slow motion, and he was aware of a strange sound in his ears, a voice that spoke too slowly for his ears to comprehend. A stretched, moaning voice.
His voice.
He tried to make out what he was saying.
The face leaned
