"What's going on?!"
In the bedroom, Azelis, Jibril, and Yuna surround the bed on which John was sleeping.
He was writhing.
Through the semi-transparent cocoon, they could see a painful reaction brought out by his physical state.
But in the dream that the poison dictated, John was having another ride.
In the dream, Jibril stood before him, naked but for the intricate tattoos that spiraled across her skin, each one pulsing with a faint, inner light. She didn't speak, didn't need to. Her gaze was an invitation, a promise of something both forbidden and irresistible. He found himself moving towards her, drawn in by an invisible force. The hunger roared louder, drowning out all reason.
