Not so demonic, but Ashraf is lucky: the Nightcap wasn't made to endure such foreign elements. Over Collette's cries, Regina Darkov's own swallowed them up, loud and shrill as she twisted and writhed on the ground. The monster, too, suffered: bulging and bubbling in places, the hat looked less a hat and more a boil ready to burst.

No! Auuugh–! NO!

Pain. Personal pain – not just information fed from the girl. And it was terrible. Tendrils burst from the already broken shape it had once been, flailing and stretching and searching blindly for some means to ease the pain.