No. Wait. That's not possible. (What's impossible in impossible times such as these?) Malcolm doesn't recoil so much as straighten suddenly and stiffly. What is this, is this a demon in a child's body? Is this some wayward trapped spirit? Something new, something out of a rift, some experiment? This isn't just a boy, and no mage. This is dangerous is what it is. Did Cassandra know of this and think it okay?

This should never be. Like the tainted water, driving them mad, thinning their view through the veil--Faith on one shoulder, Despair on the other, chattering quietly about him and he could almost, almost hear them, when they would lean in to say--no, this is not that. This is something more tangible.

The thought process takes a moment, two moments at most, before he makes a sharp motion directed out of the kitchen. He doesn't understand this, because whatever this thing inside a boy is, it's quiet and helpful and endearing, but it also shouldn't be. But he is not having this conversation here with the busy cooks where anyone hanging around might overhear.