“The moment Gale was alone he let his illusion drop, the false form melting off like tar.
His journal manifested in his hands, summoned from the ever growing void located in his chest.
It flipped itself open to the last page he had been writing in; notes on the eye and tendrils of Karsite weave that sprouted from his back.
The eye kept freely looking around before the rest of him caught up. At times, it seemed to move without his conscious input. The weave tendrils too, moved around with what seemed to be a will of their own. The charges he was undergoing both equally parts fascinated and frightened him.
What frightened him the most, though, was when the void in his chest communicated with him, overwhelming him with emotions and thoughts that were not his own.
Each time, it demanded to be fed, to be given the chance to grow.”