There's only one test left.

As he takes another step, Sylar's eyes flick to the empty easel on the floor behind her. His left fingers uncurl, like shooing away an insect.

It takes effort to focus and find the threads, more than it should, but --

The easel scrapes backwards a foot with a muted shriek, sending the painting of the rooftop toppling to the ground, and a split second later, it rises into the air.