It all happens too quickly for Hilmi to even make the attempt to go in for a second swing had he the desire to do so. One minute he's feeling a satisfying connect of knuckles to Jae's self-righteous face, and the next he's grasping the sides of his own head and howling because the fucker is in his mind.

And then there's a wash of emotion: disorientation, not enough that he forgets where he is (though something in the back is starting to question that), but the world tilts crazily on him and he sinks to his knees. His own magic reacts, a weak and pitiable thing that hasn't been nurtured or trained properly, beating ineffectually against Jae's superior ability. Shields that crumple like paper.

Oh, god damn, the guilt. And it is suffocating: it leaves him gasping, because it isn't guilt for Megan, but for Ilde. A great big question mark in his brain: why do I give a shit what Ilde thinks? But if Jae can see the flashes of memory that accompany the shards of terror and guilt, Ilde is at the center. Resentment, hatred, guilt, and fear. Hilmi curls around himself, his hand lowering to his stomach, and if that sound is someone screaming, well, it's probably him.