Ryland became aware of the silence as one becomes aware of a noise that had been there for a long time. Without warning, the roar of the fire had suddenly ceased, and the turmoil of his own thoughts echoing and hammering in his head had diminished to just the awareness of Harry Danes, sitting cross-legged next to him and studying his palms.
Ryland's eyes darted around the room. No flame. No burning. The only brightness came from the window, sun streaming through, pure and holy and quenching. The stillness was almost tangible.
He swallowed hard to stop the tears.