The attack was not a sound. It was not a physical blow. It was a silent, blue-white beam of pure information that slammed into Ryan's mind with the force of a speeding starship.
One moment, he was standing in the strange, gray room of the Conclave, surrounded by gods. The next, he was on his knees, his head thrown back, a silent scream frozen on his face. His body was completely paralyzed, locked in place as if turned to stone. But his mind was a warzone.
It felt like a billion books being read to him all at once, in a language he had never heard but understood perfectly. It was an overwhelming flood of pure, cold, and perfect logic. This was the Gardener's mind, and it was pouring itself into his.
