It's burning. It's burning and the pain is indescribable.
You tear off as much as you can and - still clutching your sword - jump off the edge of the cliff.
As you fall, the tugging fingers of wind snatch the flames and spread them over your arms and onto your back. You can't breathe. You gasp and twist over and over and over and-
Something punches you in the back.
An explosion in reverse fills your ears with liquid as you sink in the opaque sea water. You realise with a detached amusement that the flames have gone.
Drifting slowly down, you notice, on the edge of a silty drop-off, three nearly-familiar figures - just in miniature. And with handles. Well, the Magus said you would probably hallucinate,
None of them have any cake.
Eat them all at once? Click here.
Eat the box first? Click here.
Eat Alan Moore first? Click here.