It's been a whole five minutes since Melys poked the sign against evil out over her chest, which means she's got fingers lifted halfway to it when that awful light flickers into life, sends her bent over her palm in sudden pain.

There aren't words to put to it. There's not a whole lot of thought, save that as she untwists herself up to get an eyeful of — of fuck, what the fuck is that —

It occurs to her, distantly, that no one's ever much explained how this ought to go. A desperate look shot between Anders (don't think about it too hard), Inessa, Kain.

"Right," She croaks, and it doesn't take a mind-reader to recognize the pictures behind the swamp reflections of her eyes, instinct screaming that now would be a good time to get out of here.