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~~((New Year's Day Special - Page 7 of 12))~~
The world around him grew slowly dimmer, slowly quieter--save only the voices. Their whispers became a chorus, of sorts, and their words, an almost rhythmic hum.

"A test, a test..."

"Come and try..."

"Be my chosen..."

"No, be mine..."

"No, mine..."

"A test, a test..."

Hmm.

He brushed the crowding fog away again with his hand and eyed the object on the pedestal. He'd already tried picking it up with soul-strengthened hands, so it clearly wasn't intangible in the same way that a reaper's body was.

Well.

If this was a test, then there wasn't really much else he could think to do, was there? He was a one-trick pony, after all.

He summoned the path of destruction.

He wasn't sure that he should try to destroy it, though. Somehow, that seemed like the wrong thing to do. If it was truly intangible, then perhaps the path would simply pass through it, as well. But if that happened, then he'd be stuck.

Agh.

He tried to be "gentle" with his use of the path--which, strictly speaking, was not entirely possible, but he tried to will his intentions into existence, anyway. He made it small, narrow. And only loosed it for a split second.

It connected.

The shifting object jostled off of the pedestal and clattered against the rooftop.

"No!"

"Wrong!"

"Return the phylactery!"

"Be quick, be quick!"

The passion in the whispers kept growing, but Caster would not be rushed.

Phylactery? Why were they panicking all of a sudden? And what in the world had just happened, anyway? Why had the path been able to touch it when his own two hands and soul could not?

He eyed the object more skeptically now.

"To grasp, to grasp!"

"Touch, chosen! Touch!"

"Return! Return!"

The voices were all but hissing at him, and he could hardly make out what they were saying, anymore.