She can't escape. Not when she's awake and certainly not when she's dreaming. It's an all-consuming sense of corruption, of sweet incoherent whispers and near suffocating pressure, heat, and darkness. It exhausts her, steers her mind - once so sharp and logical - in spiraling directions. She cannot think past the twisting sensation in her belly. Past the heavy hum that fills her limbs with warmth and inconveniently sends her heart to thumping, heavy and strong, against her rib cage. It's those whispers that claim this is how it feels to be alive, that tempt her to using her magic without viable reason and pushing her body to its limits doing such little things. One spell here. Another there. Anything to ease the pressure in her body. To shake off the tongues of flame that lick right below her belly and tease her thoughts to distraction.