Linsora’s groaning escalated to a scream.
“My head!” she said, clawing at her hair. “Images—all over—too fast—” Permac tried to secure her hands to prevent her from ripping out her hair, only for her to slump forward, holding her temples.
That was it. This was too much.
Permac automatically thought about Linsora’s claustrophobia—how she’d appreciated his influence—and sent a wave of calm her way, only for Karak to reach out and touch his arm.
“No,” Karak said. “Don’t send her anything more.”
“More?” Permac shouted. “What do you mean more? What have you done to her?”
“I have done nothing,” Karak said. “This will pass, but it might take some time.”
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