The shove takes him mid-cast, splintering his concentration and magic alike when he's sent staggering. Protest wells up in his throat--what was that for--dies with the wolf as Loghain steps in to put the beast down. Too close, that was too near a thing--their barriers need reinforcing. He reaches to twist the Fade into a shield around them--

--And feels the oleaginous worm-track that horror leaves through the Veil like it's in his own bones. It's distant, removed, not cast on him, but last time it had felt like that too--for an instant--as the spell came creeping in around the edges of his vulnerable sleeping mind.

"Regroup!" This isn't Hasmal Circle. That isn't Knight-Commander Brycen's voice; the accent is wrong, all of this is wrong, unreal down to the rotten core of it. It's happening again--it's already too late--once the magic's crept inside your head there isn't any stopping it or ignoring what it shows you, isn't any unseeing but to stop seeing altogether. No running, no hiding, no hope except that the damage not be so bad this time, Maker please, not again.

Not again, not again, not again-- He stands rooted in place with his pulse singing in his ears, his tongue bitten to bleeding as he chokes back a scream.