"Call me. I will be near."
VI
Dead. Dead. No bodily sensations. No being. But still thought. The individuality of Eldon Carmichael looked without eyes, listened without ears. It was absolutely, utterly alone in nothingness. Nothing but terrible aloneness.
But something—someone—had said, "Call me." What? Whom? Shreds of memory began to coalesce.
"Krasna!" The individuality of Eldon Carmichael shouted without lungs or mouth. "Krasna!"
The nothingness was no longer quite so empty. A thought brushed his.
"Eldon? Where?"
"Here!"
"Think of your shape!" a thought commanded.