A spill.
Milky white light streaked across the skies, stretching farther than the eye could follow, thin in some places and dense in others, like something vast had reached out too quickly and lost control of what it was trying to hold.
Milk.
Nurturing... Care... But maybe most importantly, youth. Potential, lacking in time and even more so in restraint
Sylas finally understood.
The Milky Way World had never been greedy in the way he had assumed. It hadn't swallowed surrounding Sectors and Horizons because consumption itself was the goal. It had simply wanted too much, too quickly, stretching itself across every path it could reach without possessing the maturity to understand that potential meant little if it was spread too thin.
Sylas could see the image of a youth blessed with enough athletic talent and coordination to reach the peak of almost any sport they chose. Basketball, soccer, tennis, football, it hardly mattered.
