Vellichor's essence had one last idea.
He tried touching Endrith.
At first, he watched the edges of the creature flicker as once more something inside it tried to escape, only to be dragged back into the darkness.
He reconsidered for a moment.
This didn't seem like a very good idea, but he would still try.
"You're really not going to acknowledge me, are you?"
Endrith was still staring at the power.
For all the centuries Endrith had been known, apparently one thing had remained perfectly consistent.
Give the man an impossible amount of power and he would spend eternity trying to acquire more of it.
He drifted away from Endrith.
Perhaps he could try later.
Unlike him, he had something to think about.
He had a mind with which to think things through.
Still, he wouldn't like to be stuck all alone, even if it was Endrith who had to keep him company.
Was it a stupid idea?
Who could say?
What exactly would he even be afraid of?
This realm had already stripped him of nearly everything that made conventional danger meaningful.
He had no body to injure, no blood to spill, no spell to interrupt, and no possessions to lose.
And, if he was being honest, he was no slouch.
He had survived many things.
So why not this?
Not a lot seemed to happen in this place anyway.
He extended one of his arms until his hand reached the edge of Endrith's golden aura.
And then he touched him.
He waited, but nothing happened.
He pushed a little farther.
There was no resistance and no sensation.
No warmth, or some kind of terrible revelation.
He could not feel Endrith at all.
He pressed harder, as though physical pressure might somehow make a difference, as if "physical" anything was real here.
His hand simply passed into the blackness.
He could not feel its surface because there apparently was no surface.
He could not feel a body beneath it.
He could not even feel the strange things that occasionally tried to escape from within.
It was terribly disappointing.
He had expected something.
Anything.
Perhaps some reaction from Endrith.
Perhaps even some horrible consequence.
Being absorbed into that darkness might almost have been preferable.
At least then something would have happened.
Endrith was exactly the same: unaware or uncaring.
Vellichor looked at his own hand.
There was nothing he could do.
That was becoming the central fact of his existence here.
He could think.
He could remember.
He could wander.
He could apparently speak.
But he could not touch, not fight, not draw power, or seemingly interact with anything.
He could not leave.
And he could not even convince the one other apparent person in this realm that he existed.
He sighed, which he had to do on purpose.
"Fine," he said aloud.
He drifted to Endrith's side.
Not too close.
He had already established that touching him accomplished nothing.
He settled there and looked toward the vortex.
Perhaps Endrith would change eventually.
Perhaps he would wake.
Perhaps the creature would remember that it had once been a person.
Perhaps it would remember its name.
Perhaps it would become something more than this golden-edged darkness endlessly reaching toward power.
If that happened, Vellichor would be there.
He could wait.
He had done that before.
Waiting was hardly difficult.
And, in this place, he had little else to do.
So he remained beside Endrith.
Two remnants of something that were once people.
One consumed by hunger for power.
The other just wanting companionship.