There are ways to poison creatures like himself, he's pretty sure. Zack isn't impervious to magic, or the powers of godlike beings. Or maybe he's got it all wrong, because at present, it's agony and he can't even see straight.

In a haze of pain, Zack stands, tipping back his chair so it falls noisily to the ground. He catches the table too, which doesn't get flipped, but it does get knocked, disturbing all the plates and cutlery. The near-empty glass of water falls over, as does Alec's cider.

"I don't know, okay? I don't know!... Stop!"

People are turning to look at the disturbance, but Zack can't see them. His bead feels like the bumping and grinding of two tectonic plates, of a supervolcano straining below the surface, just before it erupts. "I don't want to hurt anyone!"