Zaber was lying on the bed.
The room was quiet, even the city noise coming from outside seemed unable to reach here, as if stifled between the walls. The wooden bed creaked slightly—when Zaber moved. He was lying not staring at the ceiling, but looking inward.
He thought for a while.
Then he slowly sat up.
He looked at his hands.
"Soul chain…" he thought. "What are you capable of?"
"My father did not say," Zaber said inside. "So I must find out myself."
He looked toward the table.
On the table stood an ordinary vase. Inside was water, and in the water were a few green stems. No magic. Nothing but life.
Zaber extended his hands.
From his palm emerged a pink, clearly shaped chain.
It floated in the air.
The chain was silent. It made no noise. It did not absorb light. As if it did not fully belong to this world.
Zaber watched carefully.
The chain reached the vase.
"Let us see…" he thought.
He wrapped the chain around the vase.
He squeezed the chain with his fingers.
