No matter what he did, the golden-edged darkness did not respond.
It continued reaching toward the vortex.
Perhaps it could not see him.
He could not help but wonder whether this had always been Endrith's fate.
Reaching out to power, now and forever.
He had been one of the most powerful people in the world, and it seemed that even that had not been enough.
Maybe this realm had made him into this.
But no matter what, now that he had found another person, or merely the essence of one, the realm felt considerably less empty.
He began to stare at the vortex of power as well.
If Wizard King Endrith, someone the Dread Mage Vellichor considered more than a peer, could not find a way out, and spent his entire existence longing for a smidgen of power, what could he do?
He still decided that speaking to him was worth attempting.
It seemed like the obvious first step.
He turned toward the golden-edged darkness.
He tried to talk.
Then he remembered that he did not actually know whether he could make a sound here.
He had spent so much time thinking that the distinction between thought and speech had become almost meaningless.
In his old world, producing a voice had required lungs, a throat, air, and a body.
Well, in most traditional cases of producing speech.
Even if he looked like he had those things, as he resembled a man quite a lot now, he wasn't sure if he actually did.
He remembered how speaking worked.
Perhaps that was enough.
He concentrated.
A strange pressure gathered, and then he made the sounds.
"Endrith."
It was faint and distorted, as though the word had traveled through a great distance before reaching his lips.
He brightened.
At least he could speak.
"Endrith, can you hear me?"
Endrith's essence paid him no mind.
It didn't even seem like he noticed him speaking at all.
"Wizard King? ...Your Majesty?"
He tried several more names.
Some grandiose and respectful, something a suck-up would call him.
And some unnecessarily insulting, just to see what would happen.
But none produced a response.
He began to think that Endrith could not see him.
He was reasonably certain that he was visible.
Or at least, as visible as anything else in this place.
Perhaps Endrith simply did not care.
But there was another possibility.
Perhaps Endrith saw things as Vellichor had before he came to recognize himself and regain most of his memories.
He could be a walking impossibility, a complexity that Endrith simply couldn't make sense of, so he chose to ignore it.
Perhaps he could perceive him perfectly and simply considered him irrelevant.
He went closer.
"Endrith."
He tried shouting, then speaking more slowly.
He even tried speaking in several different languages.
Eventually, Vellichor gave up.
At least temporarily.
He moved directly into what he thought was Endrith's field of view.
The golden blackness did not change.
He waved one arm, and then both.
Then he moved them wildly.
He began gesturing.
First to himself, then toward Endrith, then to the vortex, and back to himself.
He pointed emphatically at the thing of golden-edged darkness.
As no response came, he stepped closer.
He gave one last, more-than-rude gesture, just to check.