And there's something Carlisle cannot deny. "I do trust you, my friend." If there is anything that is certain in the fading world around him, it is them.

He reaches out to brush his fingers along the Mote, his hand trembling as it connects -- the light in his eyes explodes in intensity, drowning out his pupils entirely. The current indeed pulls at him, and however gentle Glacius may be, Carlisle himself is truly worn too thin. What energy there is of his own is awash immediately: he feels himself being pulled down, out, toward that terrible maw within him—

Carlisle shudders as he pulls away, his chest heaving as he gasps for air. He mutters an apology under his breath -- he is certainly awake now, if nothing else.