Sarah handed a bowl of her brew to each of them.
"This doesn’t look like much," said Quinn. "I think I had three times as much last time."
Sarah smiled. "This is significantly more potent. You may wind up wishing you had taken less."
Davion looked green. He stared into the bowl and said, "I’m not sure I’m ready for this."
"Aw, come on, dude!" said Quinn. "I know you’re not gonna let your fear win over your curiosity!"
Davion chuckled, his eyes lowered. "You’re right," he said. "I am deathly curious." He took a shy sip.
"He who would pun would pick a pocket!" said Quinn.
"You would know more about that than I," said Davion.
Quinn grinned. "Hey, I’m no thief! I pick a man’s pocket while performing, then give it right back to him. It gets a laugh from the crowd, and sometimes the owner gives me a coin out of the pouch I just returned. Everybody wins!"
He took a gulp from his bowl and wrinkled his nose. "Ugh! That was not delicious."
"Best to sip slowly," said Sarah, "Over twenty minutes or so."
Zebulun took a sip. It was bitter.
The three of them sipped in silence.
One hour in, Zebulun noticed multi-colored halos around his friends. He looked around. The equines, tethered nearby, had halos as well. So did the trees. He realized he could hear the babbling of the nearby creek where they fetched water. He realized he could always hear it, but didn’t notice most of the time.
Davion sat on the ground, staring into the fire. "So strange," he said. His voice echoed upon itself in Zebulun’s mind. Davion slowly waved his hand before his face, staring in awe. Zebulun saw Davion’s hand in seven places at once, as if time itself were echoing.
Quinn lay on his side on the ground, his eyes closed, softly singing some old folk song. Zebulun felt he could hear the playing of non-existent guitars and harps, and the beating of invisible drums, alongside it.
Zebulun laid on the ground and looked up at the stars. Every few seconds, a halo would appear around a star, followed by a beam of light shooting from that star to another nearby. It looked like star folk flying from star to star in the blink of an eye.
As things progressed, Zebulun’s vision turned chaotic. Geometric shapes filled his vision wherever he looked. Quinn’s song seemed to echo unto infinity. The concept of time lost all meaning.
Zebulun knew he was about to die. It was his time. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and accepted his fate.