“Tell me,” Malini said, placing her hand over his own. He could not feel her fingers. His skin was tingling, growing leaden. “Does it hurt?” He opened his mouth. Nothing but a rasp left it. He felt something dribble from his lips. She nodded as if he had spoken. His sight was beginning to go gray. He could not breathe. And the twisting nausea in his stomach was growing, gouging him from the inside out. He was being clawed open. Eviscerated. The ground beneath him was ash, and what lived in the ash was eating through him, heat and cold and bitter, scrabbling finger bones. Surrounding him were
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