No, he thought. Enough. Cease your chatter.

He clutched tighter, the threads braiding into a giant rope in his mind. High above, the skulls quieted, their fires dimmed.

And then the necromancer noticed Qurrah’s meddling. The rope pulled taut and pulsed with incredible energy. Colors swarmed through his mind, dark purples and reds across a canvas of black. He felt his chest tightening, his neck constricting. A scrying eye was upon him, now, and he was losing. It felt like an arrow pierced his mind, and through it, words seeped into his head.

Run. Die. Collapse. Fear. Failure.

An apparition swirled before him, blacker than the shadows, red eyes smoldering. It touched his face with rank claws, turning the sweat of his brow to ice. The arrow squirmed deeper. Qurrah focused every bit of his will upon it, desperately seeking to repulse it. His well of energy, which he’d thought empty, burgeoned and over-flowed. The arrow snapped, banishing the necromancer’s presence, but leaving a solitary impression squatting at the back of Qurrah’s mind:

Curiosity.

Qurrah opened his eyes. He lay on his back in his brother’s arms, yet he didn’t remember falling.

“You’re alright!” Harruq hugged him.

Qurrah laughed.

“He lost,” he said, pointing to the night sky. “And he doesn’t know how badly.”

One by one, the skulls’ fire went out and they fell like morbid hia upon the city.

“Limitless,” Qurrah said, his smile trembling. Blood ran from his nose, and his skin was so pale Harruq could see his veins. “The well is limitless.”

His eyes rolled into his head. Without another word, he collapsed.

He dreamt of fire poured into flesh and a man whose eyes were glass.