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Everything was so bright.
Colors and shapes shifted in front of him, impossible to distinguish. The prismatic array almost hurt to behold, and yet Elze’ith couldn’t help but stare, transfixed. Or maybe he wasn’t staring at all; he had no idea what was real, if anything was real, if he was real.
There was a voice. Or maybe multiple. The words swirled amongst the colors in a display that might have been beautiful had it not been so harsh and intense. He wanted to shy away as much as he wanted to cobble together shards of words and tone to scrape together some semblance of meaning to anchor him back to reality. But the sea of color and light shifted too rapidly for him to grasp anything, and he found himself lost in the tide.